The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter

by TalonMach5

Rating: teen
Tags: Queen Chrysalis, Adventure, Tragedy, Princess Celestia, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Human, Romance, Princess Luna, Drama, Original Character, King Sombra
Length: 223891

Part two, of books two of four, in the Great Slave King Saga. An anthology of Equestria's history

The Slave King, the Lord of Earth, was once one of the most powerful deities on the Pantheon. Feared and respected by his peers and enemies alike, he had it all. But then disaster struck, and he was forced to make an unwanted choice. Now he's married to a woman he never loved, bedridden and crippled by some unseen assassin, friendless and vulnerable, buffeted from every side by traitor and enemy alike, and entangled in an endless web of lies and deceit.

Princess Luna, the Beautiful, Lady of Night, was once beloved and desired by all. Once, many sought after her to behold her loveliness and share her wisdom. But now, few seek an audience at her throne in Londwhinium, and even fewer still seem to appreciate her nights. A voice whispers to her, tempting her, taunting her, berating her. She thought marriage would end her loneliness, and bring joy to her desolate heart. She was wrong, she's still unhappy, and the voice refuses to remain silent.

These two souls, bound together by chance and circumstance, each seeking and never finding. Will these two ever find peace, and more importantly each other? Or will they be driven apart, to wander lost and alone in the raging heart of winter?

Part two, of books two of four, of the Slave King Saga
Book one can be found here: The Great Slave King
Part one can be found here: The Book of Water: The Marriage of the Slave King
And if you want something a little bit different try: Equestrian Tales Told by Tavernlight

TV Tropes Page: The Great Slave King: Special thanks goes to gentlereader Abstract Indigo

Published 2013-12-01 19:50:02 UTC
Last updated 2016-03-15 19:53:19 UTC

Chapter 4: The Journey Home, The End of One Adventure, and Beginning of Another

The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter

A Story by TalonMach5

Chapter 4: The Journey Home, The End of One Adventure, and Beginning of Another

He saw the magnificent city shining in the distance, the sun reflecting off its golden parapets and towers. Catching a thermal updraft, he flew even higher above the familiar mountainous terrain of his homeland. Below him, he saw his mother being flanked by several of her honor guard, which were escorting her back to the palace. He saw her looking up at him, and knowing that look, descended to fly the rest of the way by her side.

Pleased that her son had rejoined her, Lady Zephyr gave him an approving smile, before preparing to land in one of the palace courtyards. Following after her, Dawson flared out his wings, and slowed his descent. Landing gently on the ornate masonry of the courtyard, he joined his mother’s side.

Glad to be safely home, she embraced him tightly. “I’m so glad you’re safely back in the nest,” she said, as her guards, save two, returned to their posts.

Though he missed the South he hadn’t realized until now just how much he’d missed his home. “It’s good to be back, mother,” he said, gently kissing her head.

“I’m glad you feel that way, Dawson,” she said, looking into his soft brown eyes and offering her son a contented smile. “Because you’re grounded for at least the next month.”

“But, mother!” he tried protesting, before being silenced by a sharp look.

“Don’t but mother me, Dawson,” she scolded, letting him know just how much trouble he was in. “You left home without leaving so much as a note, left the safety of our domain to go adventuring, and betrayed my trust not once, but twice.”

He thought about protesting, but decided against it. Even though he was the focus of her wrath, he was happy to see his mother back to her old self, especially after what had had happened between herself and the Slave King. She’d been nearly inconsolable, and had refused to even attend the wedding. So seeing a little fire in her eyes once more warmed his heart.

“Alright, mother,” he said, agreeing to abide by her punishment.

When she saw that he’d gracefully accept his punishment without complaint, she gave him a strange look. “Who are you, and what have you done with my son?” she asked, motioning for him to follow her into the palace. “Dawson, I guess your little excursion to the South did wonders for you.”

“Yes, I think so too,” he agreed, escorting her to the throne room.

“Lady Zephyr,” a large griffin said, walking towards them.

His plumage was black and silver, which was a stark contrast to his snow white coat. Tapping his talons several times against the floor, he gave Dawson a harsh look with his blue eyes, before bowing low to her.

“Councilor Johan,” she said, placing a wing protectively around her son’s shoulder.

“It’s so good to have you back with us one more, your highness,” he said, belying his true feelings regarding her return. “I was almost afraid I’d have to run the entire domain into the foreseeable future without you.”

“Well fortunately, for everyfeather involved,” Dawson said, giving the councilor a flat gaze. “That will never come to pass.”

“Yes, Dawson,” the councilor sarcastically agreed, running his tongue along the edge of his beak and teeth. “Hopefully your mother won’t ever have to embarrass herself in the future on your account.”

“Listen you…” Dawson growled, allowing his personal dislike for the councilor to heighten his emotions.

“Dawson, please excuse us,” Lady Zephyr said, when she saw things were threatening to get out of talon. “I have much to discuss with the council. I’ll join you for dinner later.”

Dawson wanted to protest, but once more he saw the virtue in her words. “Very well, Mother,” he said, hugging her. “I’ll see you then.”

Happy that her griffin-half son was leaving them, Councilor Johan slicked back his feathers, and extended a wing towards Lady Zephyr. “Allow me to escort you the rest of the way, your highness,” he said, admiring her attractive blue plumage.

“I know the way, councilor,” she sharply replied, disliking how blatantly he was ogling her.

“As you wish, Lady Zephyr,” he said, backing away and giving her her space.

Walking towards the council chambers in silence, she looked disparagingly at Councilor Johan. In truth she didn’t care much for him personally, but his clan was both honored and storied, and had always served her well in the past. She only hoped that his future replacement was a more worthy inheritor to their legacy. Although she’d hoped for a chance to spend alone with Dawson, discussing his future here in her domain, she also needed to speak with the council about the domain’s slaver problem.

Even though she’d heard numerous reports over the years of griffins going missing, until a few days ago she’d never had any solid proof. Honestly, the easiest solution to their problem would be raiding the pony settlements that straddled the borders between the Domain of Air and central Equestria in retaliation, slaying the inhabitants, and burning them all to the ground. However, if they did that she was sure Princess Celestia and Princess Luna might decide to send a reprisal, also then there was the issue of the Slave King. As Luna’s husband, the ponies were his subjects as much as theirs, he might take offense if she authorized the attacks against them in retribution.

Though pressing her subjects into slavery was vexing, central Equestria and her domain had experienced a prolonged period of peace and prosperity. Though her griffins were brave and strong, her domain was rather resource poor. Any prolonged conflict, would surely cause hardship for the entire Domain of Air. Of course, her other option was demanding that Celestia remove all the settlements straddling the border. She was almost certain the slavers base of operations, were amongst the numerous settlements found along their shared border. But eliminating the border towns also carried the risk of reduced the trade her people greatly depended on.

A majority of the trade routes through her mountainous domain, was handled through those border settlements and towns. And even if Celestia removed the ponies from the settlements, there was no guarantee the slavers wouldn’t just move their base of operation to a new location along the border. The more she mulled over the problem in her mind, the more she regretted not snagging the Slave King when she’d had the opportunity to. It certainly would have made resolving things much simpler.

Passing by the murals that Lord Darkpaw, her former lover had once gifted her with, she hung her head in shame. For so long, she’d turned a blind eye to this problem. Perhaps had she pushed the issue more forcefully, he’d might have done something about it. But she’d not wanted to risk angering him over it. And even though his successor, the Slave King, had done what he could to reduce the number of griffins enslaved, he held little influence outside of his own domain.

She’d asked him long ago why he tolerated slavery, when he’d once been a slave himself. His answer surprised her. He’d told her that the evil in others hearts was beyond even the power of gods to stop, and all he could ever hope to do was make it bearable. She thought back then, that he was only trying to justify his actions to her. But now, she wasn’t so sure. Certainly his domain needed the labor, and he insured that most were treated relatively well.

So she was back to her original problem, what to do about the slavers acting with impunity in her territory? The consequences of a war with the ponies, would certainly be more expensive than her domain could withstand. Isolationism also brought similar problems, and her griffins were too proud feathers, to ask for help from the knights of the Lawgiver.

Sensing the deep thoughts that hung over head like an oppressive fog, the councilor cleared his throat. “Lady Zephyr,” he said, running a talon against his beak thoughtfully. “Is something on your mind?”

“Yes, Councilor Johan,” she admitted, sighing deeply over the plight of the griffins she’d failed to protect over the years. “I recently learned of just how bad the slaver kidnapping gangs have gotten.”

“Oh…” he said, his voice carrying little emotion. “While the slaver gangs have been more active of late, the more pressing issue is the trade routes they’ve been interrupting.”

“How can you say that?” she asked, feeling agitated that the councilor apparently thought bits had more worth then feathers doomed to toil against their will for a decade.

“We can’t be everywhere,” he said, trying his best to calm her down. “And while anyfeather being kidnapped is tragic, the loss of income from the disruption in trade causes greater overall suffering.”

When she heard his retort, she somehow suspected he was more worried about his clan’s extensive trading ties to the border towns, than the good of the domain. “I’m glad you agree with me, Councilor Johan,” Lady Zephyr said, eying him with her steely blue eyed gaze.

“Excuse me?” the councilor said, not quite sure what she’d meant.

“Agreeing with me, that something must be done about the slaver gangs,” she said, with a predatory grin.

“Well…” he said, not really relishing the idea of disrupting things. “I suppose I could put forth a motion to the council, to explore the possible feasibility of an exploratory committee to discuss the issue.”

“I’m glad you agreed to help,” she said, giving him the distinct impression he had no other choice but to comply. “I’ll expect you to support me in the council.”

“But of course, your highness,” he said, sighing deeply.

When they entered the council chamber, everyfeather present stood in respect for their deity. Glad to be back amongst her people, and able to do something for those she’d failed to protect, she took her seat at the head of the council. “Gentlefeathers, please be seated,” she said, smiling that she was finally doing something constructive for her domain. “I would like to discuss an issue that has been ignored for far too long. The enslavement of our fellow griffins, by black hearted pony slavers…”

*****

The aged kirin, took a deep drag from his hookah, and sighed. A storm was coming, he could feel it deep in his ancient bones and aching joints. It was nearly dusk now and he was sorely missing his evening tea. He found it odd that his disciple hadn’t yet brought it to him. In fact, judging by his rumbling stomach, it was worrying that she’d not brought him his lunch or supper either. Usually she’d interrupted his studies, making sure he always ate a proper meal. But today, he’d been pouring over his celestial almanac all afternoon without a single interruption.

It was so unlike her. Perhaps, she’d finally grown tired of being his disciple, and returned to her own people. Being a sage wasn’t for everydeer after all. With only a decade of training under her, she still had at least twenty years more ahead of her, before she could even be considered an acolyte, let alone a sage.

“By Lord Raiden’s beard, where is she?” he muttered, annoyed with her disappearance. It had been so long since he’d made his own tea that he doubted he could locate the teapot, let alone the tea to make it. “Glitterwing, confound it all. Where have you gotten off to?”

“Oh, here I am, Sage Zhange,” he heard her high pitched voice call out, shouting at him from the steps that led outside the ziggurat that they called home.

Relieved that he didn’t have to make his own dinner, or brew his own tea after all, he breathed a sigh of relief that he still had a disciple to serve him. Looking as stern as he could manage, he furrowed his brow, as he waited for her to fly up the stairs.

“Where have you been, Glitterwing?” he gruffly asked, shaking his unruly grey beard at her, while stamping his hooves impatiently.

“Forgive my tardiness, master,” she apologized, poking her head up from the stairwell. Flittering in front of him, she bowed her head low. “I was gathering herbs in the Razorthorn thicket, and ran into some trouble.”

“Trouble in the Razorthorn Thicket?” he murmured, rubbing his gnarled antlers against the room’s stone walls. “Was it a windigo, or a yeti perhaps?”

“No, master,” she said, locating the kettle, filling it water, and setting it on the stove to boil. “It was a griffin.”

“A griffin,” he replied, wondering why griffins would bother attacking anydeer in Autumn. “Was it a marauder?”

“No, master,” she cheerfully replied, filling a pot with water, and setting it on the fire to boil. Entering the pantry, she gathered some ingredients, and set out to make their dinner. “They were attacking a pony.”

“A pony, how curious,” Sage Zhange mused, wondering why the griffin would even bother, since most ponies didn’t have the stomach for fighting. Spying how much food Glitterwing was preparing, he looked at her questioningly with his milky blue eyes. “That’s a bit more then I’m able to eat.”

“I thought we might entertain a guest, master,” she replied, busily chopping up some vegetables with her potent magic.

“A pony guest, perhaps?” he asked, putting two and two together.

“A pegasus actually, master,” Glitterwing replied, throwing the ingredients into the pot of boiling water. “He carries news from the South.”

“Very well, Glitterwing,” he said, sitting in front of the fire to warm himself. “Tell them to enter.”

“Come on in, Bucky!” she called down the stairwell.

Moments later, a white pegasus cautiously poked his head over the stairs. Offering them a smile, he sniffed the air appreciatively, enjoying the delicious smell coming from Glitterwing’s cooking.

“Your hospitality is much obliged,” Bucky said, enjoying the warmth of the fire.

Eying his many wounds, Sage Zhange pointed his hoof at Bucky. “I hear you found yourself in a bit of a scrap with a griffin earlier,” he said, stroking his greying beard thoughtfully.

Looking up from the fire, Bucky absentmindedly nodded his head. “Yeah, I ran into a bit of trouble at a tavern over in Nestoria,” he said, licking his lips in anticipation of the meal Glitterwing was preparing. “I guess they didn’t care much for ponies.”

“Yes, the tensions between your two races is strained at the moment,” the sage agreed, gratefully accepting the cup of steaming tea from his disciple. “There’s been talk of pony slaver gangs, faunnapping anydeer they can get their hooves on.”

“I wonder why Lady Zephyr allows it,” Bucky said, brushing his yellow mane out of his eyes with his hoof.

“The gods have been distracted of late,” Sage Zhange replied, taking a sip from his tea, smiling as its flavor pleased his tongue. “The Grand Celestial Conjunction is happening this year, so changes among the Pantheon are possible right now.”

“Ah, so that would explain that, then,” Bucky said to himself, remembering the mysterious preparations happening in the Slave King’s palace and the Neo Vale for the past three months.

“Would explain what?” Glitterwing asked, heating up some preserved bread to go along with their dinner.

“All the activity in the South,” he replied, imagining how tasty their meal was going to be.

“Yes, Glitterwing had mentioned you were from the South,” Sage Zhange said, carefully studying the pegasus.

“Yes, well I was originally from Londwhinium,” Bucky explained, tilting his ears slightly. “My family had debts, and when they were unable to pay, were sold into slavery to cover them. And well… You know how the rest goes.”

“Indeed,” he said, taking a few puffs from his hookah. “So, Bucky, what brings you so far from the South?”

“I wanted to see the world,” he replied, preening his wings.

“What did you find?” Glitterwing asked, tasting the soup boiling away on the fire

Rubbing his aching muscles with his hoof, he wearily looked towards the setting sun. “A whole lot of trouble for one,” he said, offering her a tired grin.

“Oh,” she replied, slightly disappointed by his answer.

Seeing her frown, he smiled. “But also a friend,” he said with small chuckle, before wincing in pain.

Spying his brand, Sage Zhange took a long drag from his hookah. “I see you once served the Slave King,” he said pointing towards the symbol of his former enslavement.

“Ah, I see you found out my little secret,” Bucky sheepishly said, no longer bothering to hide who he was.

“Hmm, no wonder the griffin wanted you dead,” the sage said, blowing out a perfect smoke ring. “Currently, there’s no love lost between servants of the Slave King and the griffins.”

“That’s former servant, thank you very much,” Bucky said, pointing to the broken chains surrounding his brand.

“So what do you plan on going next?” Sage Zhange asked him, accepting a bowl of soup from his disciple.

“Well,” Bucky said in between spoonful’s of soup, not nearly eating, but inhaling his meal. “I did agree to discuss my time in the South with Glitterwing, so whenever she’s heard enough, I guess I’ll decide.”

“Glitterwing…” Sage Zhange sighed, giving her a tired look. “I thought we discussed this already.”

“But, master,” she said, pointing the over large serving spoon in her hooves at him. “The visions only keep getting worse.”

“What happens to the Slave King is none of our concern,” he said, dismissing her fears. “Besides, I’m much too old to go adventuring, and you’re much too inexperienced. Now I expect to hear no more of this, Glitterwing.”

“Very well, Sage Zhange,” Glitterwing sighed, before taking a large bite from her bread.

“Excuse me, Glitterwing,” Bucky said, his curiosity piqued by their exchange. “What sorts of visions have you been having?”

“It’s the true sight,” Sage Zhange explained, emptying his bowl. “It allows those with a sufficient connection to the spirit world, to see things beyond seeing.”

“That’s rather peculiar,” Bucky said, thinking of his own special gift. “I have something similar, I call it my second sense. It lets me know when there’s trouble brewing.”

“Is that how you survived the griffin?” Glitterwing asked, flittering above him, and trying to discover the secrets of the second sense he possessed.

“Well, just barely,” he admitted, rubbing his hoof against his mane.

“Interesting,” Sage Zhange said, looking out a nearby window and up into the star filled night sky. There in the heavens, he saw the Twins, signifying Loki and Lugh, between the Winding River, signifying Jormungandr, twinkling in the heavens above. Could this be a sign from the gods?

Deciding he needed to consult the heavens about this is greater detail, the ancient sage picked up his astrologer’s almanac with his magic, and excused himself. “I must be off for now, you two,” he said, walking towards the stairs that led to the top of the ziggurat. “The heavens are in need of cataloging tonight.”

“Do you need assistance, master?” Glitterwing asked, worried that he might stay up all night once again.

“No, thank you, Glitterwing,” he said, looking over his shoulder at them. “Just bring me more tea every hour, and I’ll be fine.”

“Alright, master,” she said, as she began cleaning the remnants of their dinner. Seeing that Bucky seemed to be nodding off, she smacked his muzzle with a wooden spoon.

“Ouch!” he cried out, now fully awake and rubbing his throbbing nose. “Glitterwing, what was that for?”

“No sleep for you,” she said, giving him a predatory grin. “Not until you’ve answered some of my questions.”

“Alright, what do you want to know?” Bucky asked, yawning deeply and wishing he could just fall asleep.

“Everything!” she excitedly chirped, flying around the room in a flurry as she cleaned.

“Ugh…” he sighed in disappointment. Judging by how excited she was, he knew it was going to be a late night.

*****

Snorting in fury, he charged the rebels alone, unaided by any, except by his own ferocity, cunning, and magic. Rushing headlong into battle, with his sharpened horn pointed forward, he charged at who he supposed was the leader of this peasant rabble. He felt his blood lust rise, as he smashed into two burly crystal pony stallions, who foolishly thought they were up to the challenge of stopping him.

Growling at their defiance, he reared up and struck them with his arcanum shod hooves. As the magical metal met their crystalline coats, he heard the metal shrieking as it impacted against them. The two ponies, strong in their faith in the Slave King’s protection, returned his strike, with blows of their own. Feeling their weapons pierce him, he grimaced in pain, as both fear and fury welled up within soul.

Try as he might, he found himself struggling against his opponent’s greater numbers and their seemingly invulnerable crystalline coats. Pressing his weight forward, he tried shoving the two larger crystal ponies aside. But unlike the others, these two were stronger than the other opponents he’d faced thus far. It was like fighting against a mountain. No matter what he did, they blocked his path and refused to move. And if he didn’t manage to dispatch them before he tired, he was sure his reign would be the shortest of any monarch in history.

Deciding that he was done playing around, he channeled his arcane might through his horn, and into the two stallions standing in his way. Arcs of lightning leapt from the tip of his horn, and into the unsuspecting ponies. Shrieking with pain, they were knocked aside by the magical onslaught. Giving the others a malevolent glare, he sneered at them for daring to defy their proper place beneath his hooves.

“Stand your ground, stallions,” their leader shouted, unwilling to be cowed by this pretender. “We simply need to keep him occupied, until word can be sent to the Slave King of his betrayal.”

That can’t be allowed to happen, he darkly thought, preparing to launch another flurry of magical bolts at these worthless rebelling plebs. Releasing his magic, he sent a crystal pony flying into a nearby column, as he prepared to charge the ringleader with his horn. Stamping his arcanum hooves, he rushed forward, knocking the rebels aside like tenpins. Their cries of fear were music to his ears, and he smiled, enjoying their pain and terror.

Though his former master, the Slave King, loathed the Domain of Shadow, as a shadow knight, of ‘The Order of the Shadow’, he’d been instructed in the discipline of shadow magic. Though under strict guidelines on its acceptable uses, he’d decided long ago, that such restrictions were for the plebs, and not for those who were more worthy of wielding its power. Combining the power of the Dark, with that of the Earth, he tapped into the abundant ley lines that flowed through his palace, and unleashed Hades on these treacherous swine.

He mockingly laughed as their screams filled the palace. Out from each of the traitor’s shadows, dark crystals, each as black as his wicked heart, burst forth out of the ground. Injuring some, wounding others, but successfully immobilizing them all. Seeing how he’d humbled them with his superior unicorn breeding and magical talent, he sneered at them. These peasants had actually thought themselves worthy and capable of overthrowing him? He who served the mighty Second, and their dread master. Soon, he’d show them the folly of their self-delusions.

But how should he proceed? There was procedure that had to be followed after all. He couldn’t very well call himself their lawful sovereign, if he ignored the law on a whim. Choices, choices, he thought about having them caged in the public square, and left to rot. But though it might prove useful to demoralize any others that thought to rebel, they would need constant surveillance to ensure they weren’t being clandestinely fed, or even dare he say it, an attempted jailbreak.

No, he needed to break their spirits, and then release them back into the general population. By doing so, he could spread both fear, and show himself as a merciful ruler to everypony else. Then he hit upon a most wicked devious plan, one that would break their resolve, and ensure nopony would ever dare defy his rule again. He’d make the price of their rebellion so high, they would suffer for an eternity.

Congratulating himself on how clever and ruthless he was, he turned his attention back to the rebels. They were quite a frightful sight, each was covered with lacerations and deep purple bruises, while others were moaning in pain and going into shock from their broken bones. Though in pained him to do so, dead ponies would serve as martyrs to their cause. Channeling his magic into a nearby communication crystal, he summoned the remainder of his still functioning constructs to him.

“Do your worst, tyrant!” the leader of the crystal pony rebels shouted, his purple eyes staring defiantly into his own. “Once you’ve killed us, others will take up our righteous cause.”

Annoyed at his captive’s foolish obstinance, he returned a thin lipped smile. Once the massive stone and arcanum constructs entered the great hall, he directed them towards the prisoners. “Restrain these rebel scum,” he said, spitting out the words with disgust.

The runes covering the giants glowed green in response, indicating they understood their appointed tasks. With their giant hands, they held each pony in place, immobilizing them even further. Satisfied that there wouldn’t be any more unexpected surprises, he released his magic’s hold over the crystals piercing their shadows, causing them to dissolve into the aether.

Removing a small flask from his saddlebag, he removed its stopper with his magic, levitated it over the closest rebel’s mouth, and released a single drop. Almost immediately, the crystal pony’s many wounds rapidly healed, while the broken bone jutting out of his leg, retracted and knit itself back together. He repeated the process to each rebel in turn, offering them a tiny drop from the draught in his flask, before turning his attention towards the leader of this pathetic band.

“What are you doing?” the pony asked, unable to believe that such a cruel pony would willing show any kindness to his enemies.

“Healing you,” he said, shaking his head that he had to explain the obvious to the fool.

“Maybe I don’t want your help, monster!” the pony snarled, closing his mouth, and moving his head away from the draught filled flask.

Feeling a cold fury at the peasant’s continual rebellion burn within him, he roughly grabbed the stallion’s muzzle, and forced it open. “Who said you had a choice, stupid mud pony?” he growled, pouring a few drops in his mouth.

Inspecting his prisoners and fully satisfied they were all completely healed, he activated the communications gem on the wall, and had the constructs carry them away to restrain them in his dungeon. Confident that the rabble was all taken care of for now, he trotted back towards his room, and his waiting mare.

Approaching the ornately carved and gilded door that led to his personal quarters, he smiled when he thought about all the fun he’d have with her, now that he’d proved to her that any further resistance by anypony, was doomed to failure. In a way, he was grateful to the rebels who had dared to openly attack him. Since they would provide him with a unique opportunity, in quelling any further dissent in their fellow subjects.

Opening the door, he scowled at what he saw. His mare, his favorite plaything, was laying prone on the floor in a pool of her own blood. The carpet she was laying on, was stained crimson from the blood flowing from her self-inflicted wound. How dare she! he inwardly seethed, furious that she had the audacity to try committing suicide before he’d finished with her. Though he held not an ounce of care in all his black heart for the dying mare, he wouldn’t allow her to die a moment before he tired of her.

Looking into her glassy eyes he saw between her labored breaths, her smiling in relief that she was finally free from his cruelty. Offering her a flat look of contempt, he removed the flask containing the Draught of Renewal, removed its stopper, and upended the remainder of it into her mouth. The moment the sparkling effervescent liquid hit her tongue, she screamed as her mortal wounds closed, and the color returned to her pale face.

Releasing a lament of anguish when she realized there was no escaping him, she looked up into his merciless red eyes. “Why…” she whispered, nearly unable to speak due to her despair.

“Because… Topaz, you belong to me,” he said, picking her up roughly with his magic, and throwing her on his bed. “Mine to do with as I please, to use however I wish. Then when I’ve tired of you, and only then, are you free to embrace oblivion.”

She looked down at the bloody knife near his hooves, and shuddered. It had taken nearly all the courage she possessed to try ending her life the first time, and she didn’t think she had it in her to make a second attempt. Spying the open door to the balcony that overlooked the streets below, she stood up off the bed, and knew what she had to do. Leaping off the bed and running towards the balcony, the desperate mare tried to escape the monster that had stolen everything from her.

Jumping into the air, she smiled as she cleared the railing, and knew in a scant few moments she’d finally be free from him forever. But before she could begin her descent to meet her final destination, she felt herself getting pulled back into the room by his magic’s powerful clutches.

“No!” she wailed, as the freedom from her tormentor that death promised, was denied to her once more.

Forcefully slamming her against the wall of his room, he began strangling her with his magic’s hold. “You… Treacherous… Whore…” he snarled, emphasizing each word with a blow from his arcanum shod hooves, leaving her face bruised and bloodied from the impacts. Releasing her, he dropped her to the ground, as she gasped and coughed, trying to get air. “Topaz, you don’t get to die until I kill you myself. Now thank me for saving your worthless life.”

“Thank you…” she whimpered, under his scathingly vindictive glare.

“Thank you what?” he said, displeased that she’d failed to thank him properly.

“Thank you, master,” she wept, crying as the hopelessness of her situation weighed down heavily on her heart, like a millstone around her neck.

“And?” he said, looming over her threateningly.

“I don’t get to die until you say so,” she sighed, despondently lowering her head.

“Now it’s time for my reward, don’t you think,” he said, implying she’d better agree if she knew what was good for her.

Choking back a sob, she fearfully nodded her head, returned to the bed, and waited for him to do to her as he willed. Nodding approvingly at her docile behavior, he smiled, delighted that she was making such good progress. Approaching her, he stopped in front of his bed, and rubbed his hooves together in anticipation. Thinking back to the rebels in his dungeons, he could scarcely wait to begin rewarding them for their treason appropriately. If Second was here, he was sure he’d appreciate what he had in store for them.

Pressing his muzzle against her coat, he deeply inhaled her scent, relishing the perfect combination of fear and despair she was exuding. As far as he was concerned, there was no superior aphrodisiac. With a dark chuckle, he began plundering her treasure, as he thought to himself, Sombra, it sure is good to be king.

*****

Flying high above the clouds, she felt his arms wrapped tightly around her, and sighed with happiness. It had been so long since she’d last known his touch, and every night she ached to know it once more. Of course intellectually, she knew his embrace had been one of necessity rather than genuine affection, but her heart had longed for him for so long, that it made her happy imagining that the heartbeat she felt beating inside his chest, beat only for her.

Catching a thermal draft, she gained more altitude in order to avoid the Steamspout Fields that separated the Domains of Fire and Earth. The last thing she wanted, was risk being hit by one of the hundreds of geysers that could erupt at any moment. Especially when the feather she loved, was counting on her to get him safely to the Western Sea, so he could finally fulfill his promise.

When she’d heard him mention the promise, her heart had reached out to him, and to the Slave King. The Slave King… That poor feather. He’d suffered for so long, if only he’d been able to accept her gift. If only she’d had more time. If only she’d not been so desperate. But what was done, was done. She’d lined her nest, and now she had to sleep in it.

But looking at her ruggedly handsome passenger, her heart swooned and soul sang. Though the Slave King didn’t have room in his heart for her, perhaps Elrey might be convinced to return her affection if she gave him the proper motivation. Although he probably didn’t know it, he was no run of the mill wayfarer. She could feel the spark of divinity burning within his breast, and it was only a matter of time until he discovered it for himself.

Entering the badlands of the Domain of Earth, and leaving the lava flows of the Domain of Fire behind her, she was flying over the Lonely Road, which would eventually take them to the Western Sea. The Lonely Road, one of the Slave King’s great works, connected all the various cities and towns in the Domain of Earth, with the Capital, Neo Vale. Additionally, the road was constantly being expanded into the other dominions as well. Eventually, she supposed, it would crisscross across all Equestria, until it finally connecting all the domains to each other.

But as interesting and ambitious as his roads were, her mind wasn’t focused on the engineering marvel. Instead, her thoughts dwelt on the feather who had designed and planned it out. She wondered if the Slave King was happy with his marriage to Luna. Even though she’d had her heart set on herself becoming his bride, now that his wedding was over and done with, she thought that perhaps the mistress of the night might be the one to help him get out of his shell.

Over the years, she’d tried everything she knew of to make him happy. But not even the birth of their daughters, and giving him the feathered folk tribe had failed to mend his broken heart. She could only hope, that Luna would succeed where she’d failed. She worried greatly for him, she truly did. Over the past few centuries, she’d seen something vile affecting her fellow deities on the Pantheon. What else could explain Ouroboros’s and Cerynitis’s recent behavior? Something terrible was eating them from the inside, like worms feeding on a rotting corpse.

And it wasn’t just those two. Almost without exception, everyfeather else seemed to be poisoned by the same debilitating miasma, that had successfully corrupted a Prime Element and one of the Seasons. She suspected, that even if she hadn’t escaped its influence unscathed. How else could she explain what she’d done to the Slave King in her desperation?

And though it had given her Elrey, she’d still wronged the one she loved, and the guilt was eating her alive. Because a moot hadn’t been called, she was certain he hadn’t perished. But even though she didn’t know how badly her actions had harmed him, she was fairly certain she’d grievously wounded him. If she wasn’t so concerned for Elrey’s welfare, she’d kneel before his throne, and beg him for his forgiveness.

She wondered what he’d do to her when he found out. She remembered how he’d avenged himself against Lord Ouroboros and shuddered. He could be so vengeful, and yet he possessed a tender side as well. She remembered the remorse filled look he’d given her back inside his palace, and wondered if it had been because she’d willingly let him go instead of choosing to hold onto him.

If only, my love. If only… she silently lamented, wishing her heart would stop aching for him.

She felt Elrey fidgeting on her back, and turned her head to look at him. “Something the matter, my love?” she asked, pumping her wings a few more times.

“No, it’s nothing, Suzaku,” he said, grasping her even harder.

“Love, I can sense your anxiety,” she said, flying through a large cloud bank. “Are you worried about reentering the Domain of Earth?”

“No, it’s…” he said, as she banked hard to catch a thermal draft, causing him to hold onto her as tightly as possible.

“Ugh, love, it’s not that I don’t enjoy your embrace,” she said, feeling his arms tightening even further around her. “But you’re making it difficult for me to breathe.”

“Sorry,” Elrey murmured, loosening his grip on her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m just unaccustomed to traveling like this.”

“Oh,” Lady Suzaku said, finally understanding his apprehension. “Elrey, love, are you afraid of flying?”

“Not so much the flying per se,” he replied, trying his best to remain calm, as they flew over the hard unforgiving earth that lay far beneath them. “But I was never much one for heights.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, love,” she apologized, sending her magic into him. “I promise my magic’s hold won’t allow you to fall.

When her divinity touched the innate magic flowing through him, she felt her self-restraint beginning to slip. Oh, how greatly she desired him, but she’d made him a promise, and fully intended on keeping it. She’d promised to see him safely to the Western Sea, and she was determined to keep her word to him.

“Will it take us long to reach the Western Sea?” Elrey asked, still tightly clinging to her red silken feathers.

“Maybe the better part of a week,” she replied, looking at the ground beneath them for a good spot to land. “Better hold on tight, love.”

“Why?” he asked, before gasping in surprise and holding onto her for dear life, as she sharply banked towards one of the many shelters along the Lonely Road.

She tucked in her wings, and dived towards the shelter, all the while adjusting their trajectory for an optimum descent. Then right before they hit the ground, she flared out her wings, and slowed their descent to something a little more manageable. With all the grace and poise of lithe dancer, she flapped her large beautiful wings, and gently landed them down on the ground. Turning her head towards Elrey, she motioned for him to get off her back.

“I’m trying, Suzaku,” he said, struggling to remove himself from her. “But something’s holding me tight.”

Realizing her mistake, she blushed when she remembered that her magic was still keeping him attached to her back. “Oh, love, forgive me please,” she said, relinquishing the hold her divinity still had on him. She felt a pang of regret as her connection to her wayfarer companion was severed, and felt a sense of loss once he’d slipped off her back.

“Thank you, Suzaku,” Elrey said, stretching out his legs, as he walked along the breadth of the pavement of the Lonely Road.

“Be careful, darling,” she called out after him, worried that something would happen to him here, where her power might fail to protect him. “Stay close, there’s all sorts of predators out here, to say nothing of the Slave King’s numerous agents and spies.”

Nodding his understanding, Elrey walked back towards her, and joined her beneath the shade the shelter provided them. Looking at what was here, he saw a small bubbling fountain flowing with water into a pool, and several stone benches. Walking to the fountain, he cupped his hand, and dipped it inside the flowing waters. Bringing it to his mouth, he tasted it, and smiled at how refreshed it made him feel. Dipping both hands into the fountain, he splashed some water in his eyes and face, and sighed as it cooled him off from the hot sun overhead. Now feeling cooled and refreshed, he sat down on one of the benches and relaxed.

What he would have given to have had something like this when he’d first arrived here. Instead, he’d been forced to track through the badlands with a makeshift sledge, and a couple gallons of stale water. He was certain, that that experience had inspired the Slave King to initiate this project. As long as someone followed the road, they were guaranteed life giving water and shelter from the sun. If they followed the road, they were guaranteed to eventually come across at least a small town or settlement.

Lady Suzaku looked at Elrey, and wondered what he was thinking of. Walking towards him, she stood in front of him and plaintively looked at him with her large ruby eyes. “May I sit beside you, love?” she implored, placing a wing on his shoulder. When he nodded his assent, she sat down close beside him. Resting against his wide broad shoulders, she contentedly sighed, when she felt him relax against her soft feathers.

Laying his head against the bench’s backrest, he tilted his head and looked at her with his warm brown eyes. “Thank you again, Suzaku,” he said, closing his eyes to rest them from the harsh glare of the sun reflecting off the ground.

“Your welcome, Elrey,” she replied, not wishing to say anything else, and only wishing to enjoy this moment here, with the one that shared her love’s heart and soul.

“Suzaku,” he said, opening an eye and looking at her questioningly. “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course, love,” she sighed, basking in the intimacy of this moment. “Whatever you want.”

“I know you say you love me, because I remind you of him,” he said, straightening his back and sitting upright. “But why do you love the Slave King?”

Though she loved him with all her heart, his question was a hard one to answer, why did she love him so? True, she found his great strength, wily cunning, and sharp mind quite attractive, and his wisdom, foresight, and ambition had always intrigued her, but that didn’t answer the question, not fully. Of all his qualities she decided, it was his lack of guile and personal integrity that endeared him to her. With the exception of the matter of their chicks’ parentage, the Slave King rarely if ever, played the great game the rest of the Pantheon regularly engaged in.

But in the end, there was no single thing that had made her love him so, it was the culmination of many tiny things, which had won her heart over the years. Originally, she’d only ever intended to be his part time lover, allowing Zephy to have him all to herself. But slowly and surely, she’d found herself drawn to him, like a greedy dragon to an unguarded cache of gems. Eventually, thoughts of her aloof love had consumed all her waking hours, and that’s when she’d decided to betray his trust, in hopes of cementing her hold on him.

“Elrey, I don’t rightfully know,” she finally admitted, at peace with the knowledge, and loving him all the more for it. “I just know that I do. I think love is strange that way.”

The wayfarer offered her a knowing smile. “Yes, I agree with you,” he said, thinking back to Little Bleu and Snowe, and how dearly he’d loved them.

“Elrey, are you rested enough to resume our journey?” she asked, enjoying the feeling of his hardened muscles against her.

Nodding once, he got up off the stone bench, splashed some more water on his face, and drank his fill. Taking one last look at this oasis, he looked towards the west. “Yes, Suzaku, we can go now,” he said, climbing onto her back. He felt his heart race and held onto her worriedly, when she experimentally flapped her wings a few times in preparation of their flight.

Sensing his anxiety, she looked up at him and offered him a warm smile. “Elrey, darling. Don’t worry, my magic will hold you,” she said, sending her divinity back into him.

“I know, old habits die hard, I guess,” he chuckled, feeling flush from her magic’s touch.

With a soft giggle of her own, she leapt into the air. Pumping her wings hard, they were shortly air born, and back on their way towards the Western Sea. She felt him relaxing against her feathers, as he remained firmly in place on her back. As they soared west, through the blue, cloudless sky, thoughts of the Slave King ran through her mind. Even though she didn’t know what the future held in store for them, she was determined to help Elrey come to terms with his past, so he’d be free to face the future.

*****

Clearing her mind of any stray thoughts, she closed her eyes as she meditated over the past week’s events. Though most of what had happened might be considered historical in their context, she choose not to dwell on them. Instead, she thought of him, and how he’d managed to elude justice for a second time. She could almost forgive herself for the first time he’d escaped, she’d been woefully unprepared, and he’d managed to incapacitate herself and her allies before managing to escape.

Yesterday’s fight had left her troubled. Not only had she failed to bring the blackguard to justice, they’d lost artifacts of great power as well, the Elements of Harmony. Her only solace was her enemy had been denied his prize as well. But that only left her with more questions than answers. What would a changeling possibly want with the elements? Though she knew little of them beyond what the legends told, she was acutely aware that the consequences of them falling into the wrong fins, could have devastating consequences.

She was sure by how the changeling reacted when he lost the elements, that he must’ve been working for somepony else. Why else would he have howled in fury over their loss? But then the question was, who was it that profited by the changeling’s actions? Fixing the tournament at Bone’s Landing had aided the Slave King, but he already possessed the elements, so why would he steal them from himself, or seek to harm his own servants?

As far as she knew, anypony else who might’ve gained from the changeling’s actions hadn’t. Sombra she’d heard, had greatly coveted after the prestige of becoming the garrison commander of Bone’s Landing. But had been somehow convinced, to take the regency of the crystal domain all the way up in Winter instead! No, it had to be something she was missing, some small detail she’d overlooked.

Even though it was unthinkable that her lord would perpetrate such acts, losing both the tournament and the attempted theft, were out of character for the Lawgiver. By losing the contest, he’d lost both prestige and honor for his beloved order, and Sir Hurricane had nearly been killed due to the changeling’s interference. Additionally, her master would never stoop to stealing. If anything, he’d have publicly made demands to the Slave King that the elements be turned over to the Pantheon, had he known of their existence.

Judging by Princess Luna’s reaction to the revelation that the Slave King had been in possession of the Elements of Harmony, she doubted that her sister Celestia knew of their existence either. Lord Cerynitis perhaps? No, that was unthinkable, she decided. He was a staunch ally of her master, and even though relations between their domains had been chilly of late, she highly doubted that Rimefrost would seek to harm her lord in that way.

Maybe Lord Ouroboros was to blame. He had a rivalry with Lord Triton, and absolutely detested the Slave King. However to her knowledge, the Fire Tyrant had never worked with the changeling race before. Somehow, she felt that all the scheming that she’d seen so far, was uncharacteristic for the great dragon. If his previous behavior was anything to go by, he’d have sooner attempted a full frontal assault then resort to trickery.

If Dawson and Melody were indicative of their parents, she didn’t think Lady Zephyr or Lady Suzaku would seek to actively harm the Slave King. If anything, they would have most likely advised the Slave King he was in possession of such powerful artifacts before anything else. As for Lady Minoa, was subject to the Slave King, and she couldn’t fathom any reason the Lady of Spring would risk incurring his wrath, though stranger things had been known to happen.

As for the rest of the Pantheon, she knew precious little about the minor deities to guess at any possible motives they might have for seeking harm towards the Slave King, let alone risk associating with changelings. Ananse and the rest of the gods of the Zebrakan were all the way on the other side of the world, Discord was currently nothing more than a statue, and Jormungandr had aided them against the changeling thief. The unmentionable one was trapped in the Pit, and unless he had agents working for him, she doubted he could do anything.

In fact, the very idea was preposterous. As a senior member of the Pantheon, surely Lord Triton would know if he was attempting the break free from his prison. Exhaling, she furrowed her brow. She was no closer to discovering the identity of her true enemy now, then when she’d first began this mental exercise. Until she’d redeemed her honor, she vowed she wouldn’t return home to Marelantis. Besides, there was no telling where her quest might lead her. In fact, she just might even bump into Dawson again during the course of her search.

Thinking of the griffin-half, brought a light blush to her normally pale green skin. Of course, her motives to see him again were entirely due to the quest, and for no other reason. Certainly not to look into his warm brown eyes, or to slip her fin into his strong talons. If they were destined to ever meet again during the course of her quest, of course she would gladly invite him to join her. She definitely didn’t have any untoward desires for him. But if they had to share a fire under the stars over the course of the quest, then who was she to complain.

Thinking of all the questing she and Dawson might do together, made her release a tiny titter, as her cheeks took on a decidedly rosy tint. In fact, she was so enthralled in the thoughts of the possibility of them sharing a questing adventure together, she didn’t hear the others entering the room.

“Sounds like somehound is having a good time,” Chrysalis said with a teasing grin.

“Ah!” she cried out, feeling extremely flustered and self-conscious at having been discovered thinking about decidedly unquest related activities. Opening her eyes, she glared daggers at the diamond dog bitch, for embarrassing her so.

“So, Dame Squall,” Chrysalis asked, drinking in all the potent emotional energy the seapony was exuding. “Who were you thinking of, is he somehound handsome? Or perhaps instead of dreaming of a hound, your thoughts were lingering on a bitch?”

For her part, the seapony looked away, trying to hide her shame beneath the violet locks of her mane. She felt her heart race, and bit down on her lower lip. “I was merely contemplating the identity of the changeling we fought,” she huffed, trying to compose herself.

Chrysalis gave the seapony a teasing smirk, knowing full well what she’d been really thinking about. “Oh I’m sure you were,” she said, enjoying the flustered chevaleresse’s embarrassment.

“So what do you want with me?” Dame Squall demanded, feeling frustrated by her constant teasing.

“I was curious where you had gotten off to,” she haughtily said, raising a paw to her muzzle. “And surprise, surprise, you were getting off instead… Ouch!”

“Chrysalis, stop teasing Dame Squall!” Gunhilde barked, activating the brand that linked them together.

Whimpering in pain, Chrysalis gingerly rubbed where her brand had bit her.

“Dame Squall, forgive her rudeness,” Gunhilde said, lowering her antlers deferentially towards the seapony. “She still has much to learn, regarding how she should respect the Slave King’s guests. Chrysalis, apologize this instant.”

Before lowering her head, Chrysalis gave her keeper a sour look. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Dame Squall,” she said, not relishing the thought of experiencing her brand’s bite again.

Mollified by her apology, the seapony reached out her fin in friendship. “It’s alright,” she said, readily accepting her redress, but instinctually knew that Chrysalis would somehow tease her again in the future. “There’s no hard feelings, we’re pax now.”

Satisfied that her seapony friend and changeling charge wouldn’t begin feuding anytime soon, Gunhilde approached her. “Dame Squall, what will you do now?” she asked, giving the trident the Slave King had given her a careful look.

Picking up her weapon, she held it aloft as she contemplated its previous wielder. The Slave King had mentioned to her that they had once served him in some capacity, but she was unaware of any knight of the Lawgiver who had ever willingly worked for Domain of Earth. Usually the knights of ‘The Most Illustrious Order of Triton the Lawgiver’, had always opposed him on principal alone. But she found the revelation that they had once worked together surprising.

Of course she knew what she wanted… no needed to do, but didn’t know if she’d be allowed. After all, she had responsibilities to tend to, and her lord had just assigned her to his personal retinue. Now that it had been revealed that the changeling had tried stealing the Elements of Harmony from the Slave King, things had grown significantly beyond her personal quest to avenge Sir Hurricane and restore her honor.

Returning her thoughts back to the trident, she thought she heard it telling her to trust in the quest. Knowing what she needed to do, she holstered her weapon across her back, and turned to her friend. “Gunhilde,” she said, thinking of the legacy she’d been bequeathed when she accepted the Slave King’s gift. “I’m not sure, but judging by Jormungandr’s intervention in the aqueduct, perhaps we may have a greater part to play in this yet.”

“Well I for one, certainly wouldn’t mind paying that changeling back,” Chrysalis said, fully remembering how he’d been responsible for her initial incarceration and torture at the cruel hooves of Sombra and Second.”

For her part, Gunhilde didn’t really care one way or another. Although he was her master, she was still the Slave King’s slave. So if he ordered her to, she would search for the Elements of Harmony. She only hoped that their search would take her north, to Winter, so she could see her homeland once more. Although it had been several years since she’d last seen her parents, or even snow, it wasn’t until she’d become a slave that she realized how homesick she’d become.

She’d been promised by the Slave King, that he wanted her to inspect the Crystal Domain, and had said if she wished to see her parents in the interim, she had his permission. But she felt that such speculation was pointless, if she was tasked with locating the elements, then she would do as he asked. If not, it was somedeer else’s problem. But if such was to be her task, she could do worse than having the seapony, and even her changeling charge as traveling companions.

But remembering the reason for her coming to see her, she gestured towards the Slave King’s throne room with her antlers. “Come, Dame Squall,” she said, pawing at the stone beneath her hooves impatiently. “Lord Triton asked us to retrieve you.”

“Thank you, Gunhilde,” she said, activating her innate magic and creating a magic bubble around her. Floating above the ground inside her magical bubble, she headed towards the door to see her liege lord. Before exiting, she turned to face them both and bowed. “I enjoyed our little adventure together down in the aqueduct. I wouldn’t mind fighting alongside either of you in the future.”

Once the chevaleresse had left, Gunhilde turned towards her charge. “Chrysalis, come. We need to return to the Slave King,” she said, motioning towards the door with her antlers.

Nodding to her keeper, the changeling followed after her as she walked towards the Slave King’s throne room.

*****

Exiting the ley line, he panted with exhaustion as he struggled to stay standing upright. The trip from the hateful monster’s lair had been a taxing one, and thanks to his wicked enemy’s treachery, he could scarcely even use his own magic now. Limping through the empty halls of his abandoned home, the Forever Ice Keep, the howling wind outside seemed to reflect his melancholy and sorrow.

He’d stolen her from him, and had almost certainly tainted her loveliness with his dark soul. Why couldn’t the others see what so patently obvious to him? Didn’t they know the danger of allowing him to remain a member of the Pantheon? He might be content to play in the mud for now, but what of tomorrow? What possible stumbling block could they offer to his ambition once he’d fully consolidated his power in the South, and the lands north of his domain had finally caught his greedy eyes?

Celestia was nothing but a fool. She was so eager to win over the Slave King to her side, that she even willingly prostituted her own sister to him, in order to further her misguided cause. He was sure that before the end, all this would end in nothing but tears, and when that happened, she’d have nodeer to blame but herself. He could still see his moonflower in all her beauty and majesty standing beside that monster, eliciting in him a rage he’d not known in ages.

“Damn your meddling to Hades, Celestia!” he screamed, smashing several nearby windows with his silver shod hooves, showering him in a mist of icy shards and snow blowing in from the winds howling outside his keep.

He’d been so close to having his plan succeed, but then she had to go and stick her muzzle where it didn’t belong. It would have worked too, he was certain of it. He’d poured so much hate and malice into the spear, that even the normally benevolent and gentle Celestia would have eventually succumbed to its poison. The plan should have worked, it was perfect in its simplicity and elegance.

All he’d had to do was challenge the Slave King for Luna’s hoof in marriage. Had his enemy declined, he would have won. If not, all he had to do was defeat the monster in armed combat. A feat that should have been mere faun’s play. By the Pit, he’d been the one who had made the first spear, and even invented its associated fighting style. There should have been no possible way, an unskilled beast like his enemy could have possibly been capable of defeating him.

But defeat him he had, and soundly too. In fact, that hateful beast had had the audacity to beguile the others with his supposed mercy. But he knew better, he did. The rules of war and honor didn’t apply to him, and had no place amongst his kind. That was reserved for the more civilized and refined races, of which he suspected he was slowly becoming the lone member of. Otherwise, how else could he explain how everydeer had abandoned him when he needed them most?

Which is why he’d intended to strike the monster from behind. He’d been so certain that his blood rune covered spear would have struck him true. But then, not only had Celestia warned the beast of his attack. She’d used her magic, deflecting his strike, and preventing it from inflicting him with its poison. He could only thank creation that his darling moonflower had been spared. If she’d been wounded by its venom, he didn’t know what he would’ve done.

But now, thanks to her stupidity, he was a pariah amongst his fellow deities on the Pantheon. Had his plan been a success, he’d not have minded their scorn so much. But now… Now, nodeer would want anything more to do with him, for the next few centuries at the very least. Worse still, the monster had robbed him of not only his doe, but also of his pride and dignity.

The faen had used that hateful weapon, the Vendetta, to cut off his right antler! Without the weight of both of them on his head, he was having trouble keeping his balance when he walked. Adding insult to injury, he found that using his magic was next to impossible without suffering through extraordinary migraines.

Walking through the empty halls of his keep, his heart felt as empty as his home. Entering the keep’s grand hall, he limped towards his vacant throne, and laid down on his haunches. Laying his head between his forelegs, thoughts of her consumed him. Without her, his soul felt empty and hollow, and life held no joy.

No longer caring for himself or any other, he sank into the mire of his own despair, as the winter’s fury raged outside his keep. Dead to the world and the pain of his emotions, he sat unmoving as the ice and frost crept forward, covering everything in its path, including himself.

It was then, that Cerynitis the Rimefrost, Lord of Winter, spoke the name of the one he loved above all others, and who he’d had lost to his most hated enemy. “Luna, I love you so much…” he whimpered, before closing his eyes, and wept as one who had lost everything.

The last thing he saw before he was enveloped by the encroaching ice, was her portrait on the wall smiling down at him. “Forgive me, Luna. Forgive me,” his voice echoed, before finally being silenced by the howling roar of winter’s fury.

Author's Note

Thank you gentlereader for reading chapter four of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, as always comments are appreciated.

It appears Lady Zephyr's first talon experiences in the South regarding slavery have effected her greatly. It appears that she plans on doing something about it, but what that is, we can only speculate. Regarding Councilor Johan, might there be more to his reticence in getting involved regarding the pony slaver issue, then the simple love of money?

Sage Zhange, Glitterwing, and Bucky have enjoyed a meal together. It appears that the pegasi must now pay the toll, we wonder how long it might be before he can finally go to sleep. And what of Sage Zhange? Why is so adamant that Glitterwing mind their own affairs, does he really enjoy being served muzzle and hoof so much by his disciple, that he doesn't want to lose her to some mad quest?

Sombra seems to have taken to his new post, like a fish to water. But we wonder what fate he has in store for the rebellion. Elrey and Lady Suzaku, are on their way to the Western Sea, as they travel the Lonely Road together, what other secrets might they share with each other? Will she admit to him her guilt, or continue hiding it from him.

Dame Squall meditating on the possible motives for any to try stealing the Elements of Harmony, might have inadvertently discovered the one behind the theft. But how long until she realizes it, or will she continue wandering ignorant of her discovery? As for Lord Cerynitis, will Rimefrost ever know happiness again?

Find out the answers to these questions and more, in the next exciting chapter of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, coming soon to computer near you!

Once again, gentlereader, thank you for reading and all your kind words and support. You make writing worthwhile. Until next time!

Chapter 5: The Liar, He Who Plays Both Ends Against the Middle

The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter

A Story by TalonMach5

Chapter 5: The Liar, He Who Plays Both Ends Against the Middle

He sat on his cold, unyielding, stone throne, as his wife’s magic sustained him. Without it, he was sure he’d have collapsed to the floor by now, totally unable to move like a newborn babe. Though he found it taxing, he felt it was important to hold his court at least for appearances sake. Something which he found incredibly amusing, as he reflected on it.

Even though he normally detested pointless frivolity and ceremony. Here he was, going through the motions for someone who might’ve been responsible for all the intrigue he’d suddenly found himself mired in. He might have laughed at the irony, if these events hadn’t left him in such dire straits. He was currently weak and vulnerable, and with the revelation that someone, or rather some changeling, had attempted stealing from him and tried unsuccessfully to kill his servants, was a sign that whoever was behind this plot thought him weak and an easy target. An error in their judgment which he intended to correct.

“Beloved?” he heard her ask.

Giving her a cursory glance, he saw his wife looking up at him from the throne she’d had their servants place beside his. He in all his many centuries of rule, with the exception of Nightmare, had never had another sitting alongside him. He supposed it leant a certain symmetry to the room, which his own throne by itself lacked. However the large blue satin pillowy cushion serving as her seat, lacked the stern gravitas that accompanied the unforgiving firmness of his own stone throne.

“Wife, what is it?” he asked her much sharper then he’d originally intended to. Turning to see what she’d wanted, and seeing the hurt reflected in her eyes, he immediately regretted his words. “Wife, my apologies. This new problem with the changelings, it has me troubled.”

When she heard him admit his worry, she felt gladdened. Finally, he trusted her enough to share a piece of himself with her. “Speak thy fears to us freely, husband,” she said, placing her hoof against his hand. “We shall attend to our enemy together.”

“Wife, I fear noth…” he started, fully intending to rebuke her for assuming he feared anything or anybody, before staying his tongue. Realizing her words were only born out of concern for their newly shared realm, he amended what he’d intended to say. “Wife, I only meant to say that I’m troubled by this plot that has somehow managed to elude me until now.”

“Husband, remember our promise to thee,” she said, looking into his burning green eyes. Though he steadfastly denied holding any fear or uncertainty, she saw a glimmer of incertitude festering within him. “We shall stand as warden for thee, until thou art able to resume thy duties unaided.”

“Wife, I require no one’s aid to hold onto my domain,” he said, trying desperately to believe his own lie.

Stung by his curt response, she gave him a frosty look, before drawing her hoof back. “Is that so, husband?” she replied, slowly withdrawing her divinity from him. “If thou hast no further need of us, we shall take our leave of thee.”

As all traces of her magic left him, he found his strength waning. Struggle as he might, he found it increasingly difficult to continue sitting upright on his throne. “Wife…” he said, raising his left hand to her. “There’s no need for you to leave. I’d appreciate your counsel once Queen Ambrosia arrives.”

Pleased that he’d finally began seeing things her way, Luna resumed supporting him with her divinity. She was so happy that he’d finally asked her for her help, she granted him an overly generous portion of her magic, making his normally pallid flesh grow flush and rosy.

“Dost thou desire anything more, our husband?” she innocently asked, her placid and tranquil smile, belying the ulterior motives she had for him. “We wish only to serve thee in whatsoever capacity thou desireth.”

Though she was trying to hide it, he could see that beneath the guise of innocence she wore, she fully intended to keep teasing him in this manner, until he yielded to his primal instincts. You damnable woman, he thought, feeling a mixture of anger and lust overtaking him. It was so frustrating being beholden to her. But unless his strength returned soon, this was his fate into the foreseeable future. To be a plaything for his wife’s amusement, and sating all the whims of her fancy.

“Beloved, is there something on thy mind?” she asked, looking deep into his flaming emerald eyes. “We think thou art somewhat distracted.”

No kidding, he bitterly thought, feeling his mind cloud, as the ever familiar hunger stalked him like a fearsome predator. Gazing into her eyes, he found himself drowning in their beauty once more. Like a siren’s song, they beckoned to him, imploring him to accept what she was offering him. But unwilling to give into her advances, or give her the satisfaction of having bested him, he slowly shook his head.

“Wife, I’m sorry. I was lost in thought, contemplating your beauty,” he said, hoping to appeal to her vanity.

When she heard him offering her a seemingly sincere complement, her soul sang and heart melted with the joy she felt within her. “Husband, we love thee,” she said, nuzzling her muzzle against his cheek.

Seeing her so happy, filled the Slave King’s mind with conflict. While it wasn’t a lie that he did find her both beautiful and pleasing, he resented what she represented, his slavery and imprisonment. And thus though his flesh desired to possess her, he found the idea of loving her in any way, both repulsive and vile.

He felt her eyes boring into his skull expectantly. He knew what she desired, and he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of hearing the sweet little lie she expected him to utter, in reciprocation for expressing to him her terms of endearment. “Wife, I want to thank you for your assistance,” he said, with a voice that was distant and cold, yet polite and cordial. “You’ve made dealing with my condition, somewhat more manageable then it might have otherwise been.”

“We thank thee, husband, for thy praise,” she said, trying to hide her hurt and disappointment as well as she could.

She’d fully expected him to tell her how much he loved her, how much he cared. But instead, all he offered her was indifferent praise. She felt her resentment towards him beginning to rise. Right now, he was entirely dependent on her for everything, as with his domain being subservient to hers, he was even more so then almost any other on the Pantheon. She longed to stand over him, commanding him to kiss her hooves and worship her as his queen, before loving her as his wife.

And what’s to stop you from doing exactly that? the voice asked, stoking her imagination with images of her humbling the Slave King as she remade him into a proper husband for herself.

We shan’t humor thee with a response, foul deceiver, she replied, annoyed by the voice’s unwelcome intrusion into her mind, and by her husband’s stubborn obstinance in refusing to show her the affection she desired… nay, was owed.

I sense you’re feeling slightly upset about something? the voice asked, knowing full well what had stoked her ire.

Cease thy wicked prattling! she demanded, frustrated by her failure to gain her husband’s affection and inability to banish the voice forever more from her mind. We know thou only seek to mock us, and inflame our misery.

What makes you say that, Luna? the voice asked, trying to sound as sincere as possible. You’re my friend, and I only wish to help you.

Ha! Thou art no friend of ours, she replied, furious that the voice thought itself worthy of her kinship. We have little desire for one such as thee, to call us friend.

Luna, you wound me with such callous words, the voice said, slightly offended that she’d summarily rejected the very notion of them ever being friends.

A true friend, woulds’t offer us solace, Luna said, feeling quite fed up with the voice’s continual attempts of making a fool of her. Not the falsehoods and half-trues thou hast only seen fit to utter with thy wicked, forked tongue, serpent.

Ah, but a true friend would show you how to get what you want, wouldn’t they? the voice countered, offering her images of the Slave King showering her with genuine affection and passion in the intimacy of their bed.

Luna felt herself blushing at the images, and wondered if the voice could make good on its promises. If thou wert our friend truly, thou woulds’t aid us, she said, hoping in her heart that what the voice promised was possible, and not nearly another one of its devious lies.

I don’t know, Luna, the voice smugly said, dangling out hope in front of her muzzle. Am I your friend?

By now, the princess of the night had had quite enough of the voice’s nonsense. Either prove thyself a true friend by aiding us, or leave us and never return, she demanded, offering the voice an ultimatum.

Well I suppose, I’d better put up or shut up as they say, the voice said, acknowledging her request. Very well, friend Luna, you simply need to properly use all the tools at your disposal.

Is that the extent of the font of thy boundless wisdom? Luna scoffed, unable to believe that she’d almost fallen for the voice’s trickery once again.

I wasn’t finished yet, princess, the voice dryly replied, clearly annoyed that she’d seen fit to mock it. You have leverage over your husband. I suggest you use it to get what you want.

When the voice mentioned leverage, she knew immediately what it meant. Her magic was sustaining him, without it he’d scarcely be able to lift his head, let alone sit upright unaided. Yes, she could easily demand his love. And if he refused, then perhaps her husband might find her magic lacking. But how could she ensure his cooperation, she didn’t want to push him into a corner after all.

Easy, Luna, the voice said, pleased by how quickly she’d taken to its suggestion. Let him know how distressed his lack of cooperation is making you feel.

Hmm, that was a rather good idea, perhaps the voice was on to something after all. It was no secret that her husband did have respect for keeping up appearances, maybe she could use that to her advantage. With a slight giggle, she imagined how wonderful it would be when he finally agreed to love her, as their imagined passionate exchange played out in her mind.

“Wife?” the Slave King asked, confused by her soft giggle, rosy cheeks, and blushing face. “Was my explanation of the treaty we currently have with the changeling hive, boring you?”

Realizing she’d just missed valuable information, made her bite her lip with worry. Perhaps he’d reject her out of hoof, if he thought she’d been ignoring him. “Nay, beloved,” she said, withdrawing her magic from him once more. “Our heart is unsure and filled with doubt.”

“Oh?” the Slave King said, suddenly feeling concerned. Perhaps Luna had discovered something regarding the treaty from his description that was detrimental to his interests. She was the more experienced politician after all. “Tell me, wife, should I be worried about my meeting with Queen Ambrosia then?”

Surprised by his sudden interest in her opinion, she was delighted that she now held his ear. Though her plan didn’t call for it, she could easily spin his interest in the treaty, into interest regarding her. “Beloved, we art discomfited,” she said, as her lip trembled and eyes threatened to fill with tears.

When he saw that she was threatening to turn on the waterworks, the Slave King dismissively rolled his eyes at her. “Then if you’re concerned, wife, speak,” he bluntly said, disappointed that she had no valuable insights available to offer him.

“Thy aloofness, dear heart,” she said, looking at him pleadingly. “It mocks and makes a fool of us.”

He offered her an incredulous look, unsure if she actually expected him to take what she’d just said seriously. “What?” he asked, confused by her accusation.

“We refuse to be made a further mockery by our peers!” she snapped, angrily laying her ears against her head. “When they hear thou hast spurned us, their scornful laughter wilt shame us and thee.”

“Wife, I have neither the time nor the inclination, to indulge in idle gossip from the wagging tongues of fools,” he said, running his metal thumb and fingers thoughtfully across his chin. “I suggest you learn to ignore their prattle.”

“Nay, husband, thou swore to be ours before all,” she implored, removing even more of her divinity from him.

The Slave King trembled, as he struggled to keep himself from falling off his throne. “Wife…” he said, panting heavily and unsure of her motives for acting like this, when she’d promised not less than a few hours prior, to strengthen him until he was well enough to freely stand on his own.

“Husband,” she pointedly said, restoring a small portion of her divinity back inside him. “Assure us of thy devotion to us, so that the others might not have cause to mock us.”

“How do you expect me to do that, wife?” he said, still struggling to sit upright.

“We require a kiss from thee, beloved,” she whispered, blowing gently into his ear.

“Wife, how can you expect…” the Slave King said, before being interrupted by Arch Duke, Fifi le Yipyap. Happy for the intrusion, he looked at him gratefully. “What is it, arch duke?”

“Slave King,” the arch duke said, with a respectful bow. “Queen Ambrosia has arrived. Shall I admit her?”

Finally, he thought, pleased to have something to keep his mind away from his wife’s childish antics. She has some nerve, trying to blackmail me.

But as for the changeling queen, how should he proceed. He had several avenues open to him. He could allow her to speak first, providing her with enough rope to hang herself with. Perhaps he could simply confront her with her crimes, and demand she explain herself. Or maybe, he should simply skip directly to her punishment. He’d had more than ample cause to do so. After all, she’d been violating the terms of the treaty between them for centuries. Her latest actions might simply be the result of his soft touch with her. His lack of action against her former trespasses, must’ve emboldened her to act on her formerly restrained ambitions.

Looking warily at Princess Luna, he thought that this might be the perfect distraction, to keep her mind occupied by something other than himself. “Bring the queen to me,” he commanded, looking at his wife and gauging her reaction.

Once the arch duke had left their side to escort the Changeling Queen to his throne room, he was rewarded with a surge of magic from his wife. “Wife, how do you suggest I proceed with the changeling?” he asked, giving her a thoughtful look.

Delighted that he trusted her enough to seek her advice regarding the matter, she bolstered the amount of magic she was offering him. “Allow the queen to speak first,” she advised, remembering her prior dealings with the former goddess.

He smiled, pleased that she’d suggested the same course that he’d contemplated pursuing. “Hmm, a wise stratagem,” he said, nodding appreciatively at her, as he lightly stroked his beard. “Wife, I think I shall follow your suggestion.”

Pleased that her husband had accepted her advice, she rewarded him with a bit more of her magic. But craving more from him, she batted her eyes seductively at him, and drew her muzzle close to him. “Beloved, dost thou not think we deserveth a boon from thee, for our sage council?” she asked, hinting at what she thought she was due. But, not quite satisfied with the praise he’d given her, she pumped him full of her divinity, ensuring he’d know exactly what sorts of favors she expected from him.

For the third time today, the Slave King felt himself nearly lost to his drives and desires. Normally, he’d have shrugged off such blatant attempts at manipulating him, but with his body as weak as it was, he was absorbing his wife’s magic like a thirsty sponge. He felt his bones ache and flesh burn, as he lusted after her. Ironically, had he felt like this towards her prior to their wedding, he might have gladly yielded to her demands. But after what had happened between them during their wedding night, he’d sooner jump into the Pit to join the unmentionable one, before willingly indulging his wife’s libido.

Knowing that if he gave into her demands now, he’d not know a moment’s peace from her foolishness, he drove back the great hunger that was besieging him. “Boon or not, wife,” he said, seeing the longing and want reflected in her turquoise eyes, as her flowing mane beckoned him to draw close to her inviting lips. “Petitions must be filed with Harmony before I will address them.”

Hurt that he’d managed to withstand her advances, and had spurned her yet again, she pursed her lips while giving him a flinty look. “Very well, husband,” she said, determined to get her way if it was the last thing she did. “We shall take that under advisement.”

Liar! she seethed, furious at the voice for having deceived her once more, and herself for ever listening to its terrible advice.

What seems to be the trouble, friend? The voice nonchalantly asked, fully cognizant of the reason for her fury.

Scound! Thou promised us the means to getting what we desired, she cried, feeling her frustration stinging her heart and burning her eyes. Feeling sorry for herself, she blinked away her tears, as she lightly sniffed. But instead of loving us, our husband rejected us once more. He was even unwilling to even offer us the small crumb we asked for.

So the little princess fell down, scraped her knee, and is ready to give up, the voice condescendingly said, taunting her bruised ego and hidden tears. Do you want me to kiss your booboo and make it all better?

Nay, thou wicked creature! she shouted at it, as her heart grew heavy and rage ran hot. We want thee to leave us forever and never return.

But then who else would be your friend? the voice pointed out, showing her the bleak reality of her empty and unloved nights.

We ill need a friend such as thee, Princess Luna said, refusing to be taken in by anymore of its vile lies.

Well tell you what, little princess, I’ll help you get exactly what you deserve, the voice promised, its saccharine voice dripping with honeyed words and offering false hope.

Wicked trickster, we hast heard thee utter such before, she accused, unwilling to believe anything it said any further. Our husband has yet to grace our lips with the sign of his tender devotion.

All that and more will be yours, my friend, the voice said, offering her images of her and the Slave King happily living together.

When she saw the images of what the voice promised could be hers in her mind, she felt her heart race and soul quicken. For so long, happiness had been denied her, and here it was, just within reach. She simply needed to reach out with her hooves and grasp it. If she did, all she ever desired would be hers.

We… she murmured, struggling against herself, knowing she couldn’t trust the voice, and yet desperately hoping that what it said was true.

Allow me to guide your actions, Luna, the voice said, tempting her. And you will finally know happiness once more. If he spurns you again, I will trouble you no more.

Thou sweareth it? she demanded, determined to either taste her husband’s breath on her lips, or be rid of her tormentor once and for all.

I so swear it, the voice said, signing their pact with a word of power.

When she felt the voice utter the word of power, Princess Luna knew it had no choice but to make good on its word. Very well, we accept thy aid, she said, hoping that the voice would be able to break down her husband’s continual resistance to her advances.

Then we have a contract, Princess Luna the Beautiful, the voice said, worming its way deeper into her psyche.

Almost as soon as it started, it was over. As far as she could tell, she didn’t feel any different. Princess Luna looked disapprovingly at her husband, and frowned. How dare he ignore her, as if she was some bothersome lovesick foal with a crush. She was second in power on the Pantheon and his wife, if he knew what was good for him, he would learn to respect her.

Deciding that his education would begin now, she doubled the amount of divinity she was granting him. He would soon learn respect, but before she could turn the screws to begin his reeducation, the arch duke returned to the Slave King’s side.

“Slave King, Queen Ambrosia waits in the reception room,” he whispered into the Slave King’s ear.

“Excellent,” the Slave King replied, glancing towards a slowly opening door. “Let’s make her sweat for a bit.”

“Very well, your highness,” the arch duke said, looking towards Luna and giving her a curious look. She wore a tranquil expression, as she stared intently at the Slave King. “My king, is there something going on between the both of you, which I should be made aware of?”

“No, arch duke,” the Slave King replied, glancing towards her once, before turning his attention back to his servant. “My wife is simply keeping herself entertained.”

“Alright, Slave King, my queen,” he said, bowing to them both. He studied Princess Luna carefully, there was something about her that he couldn’t quite place his paw on. “How long did you wish to keep Queen Ambrosia waiting?”

“I believe it’s been long enough,” the Slave King said, looking at the slightly ajar door once more, behind which was the changeling queen, who he saw was stoically waiting to be called upon. With a small wave of his hand, he opened the door with his earthen magic. “Queen Ambrosia, I bid you welcome to my domain. Enter.”

The moment he spoke, the eyes of everyone in the room locked onto the changeling queen. Though she tried hiding it, he could sense her apprehension and fear nipping at her flanks like a ravenous timber wolf. However, he did have to credit her for how she was carrying herself. She approached his throne boldly and with purpose, looking him directly in the eye, without giving anyone else a moment’s notice.

When she reached the foot of his throne, she bowed low to the earth in supplication to him. Though he normally didn’t care whether anyone bothered with frivolous niceties, he found her obeisance telling. By showing him the proper respect, she hoped to quell his wrath against her and her people. He wondered what sort of excuses she planned on offering to him, in order to extricate herself from any guilt regarding this matter. Or if she might drop all pretense of being innocent in this before begging him for mercy.

Once a few minutes had passed, he felt it was time to confront her for the crimes committed by one of her changelings against him. “Rise, Queen Ambrosia,” he rumbled, gesturing to her with his hands to stand, allowing his raspy voice to echo inside his throne room. Whether the queen was intimidated or not, neither her face nor her eyes betrayed her emotions to him.

Examining her, he found her as beautiful as he last remembered her. Although her looks weren’t a match for his wife Luna’s or Lady Suzaku’s loveliness, or even the fierce beauty of Lady Zephyr, Queen Ambrosia possessed an exotic allure that few others could match. From her velveteen covered chitin and her glimmering gossamer wings, to her golden slited eyes and fangs, everything about her reflected her predatory nature. In fact, had she still been on the Pantheon, he was certain that she would’ve tried seducing him for influence like the others had. But that was neither here nor there.

He was determined to discover the motives behind the changeling who so flagrantly violated the treaty, brazenly tried stealing from him, and openly tried murdering those under his protection. He saw her eyes slightly twitch for a moment, and knew he’d successfully gotten under her skin. All this posturing had unnerved her after all! Pleased that he had the changeling queen right where he wanted her, he decided to let her speak for herself.

Noticing how flustered the silence was making Queen Ambrosia, he’d decided that he’d done well following his wife’s council. He could see her frustration and fear slowly revealing itself to him, when she flashed him a look of fury for being treated so poorly by him. Normally he never took happiness at another’s suffering, but for the first time since the foul curse had afflicted him, he felt in control over his own destiny. Feeling his wife’s hoof against him, he placed his hand over it.

“If you aren’t going to speak, Slave King,” he heard the queen say, drawing his thoughts back to the matter at hand. “I shall take my leave of your domain.”

Nodding to the arch duke to let him know that he was excused, he lightly thrummed the metal fingers of his right hand against his throne’s armrest. “Do you know why I summoned you here?” he asked, his heavy voice devoid of any and all emotion.

“Yes, Slave King,” the queen admitted, glancing towards Princess Luna, before redirecting her attention towards him once more. Offering him a neutral smile which revealed to him her sharp fangs, she continued. “The hive and my people, are innocent in this matter. Any changelings involved in the assault against you are operating without my knowledge or consent.”

“Is that so?” he placidly replied, refusing to show her either his anger or new found weakness. “Then, Queen Ambrosia, we have much to discuss regarding this matter.”

Offering her a cold predatory smile of his own, he was pleased when he saw fear and doubt clouding her sight. For unless one could keep those two emotions in check, they would prove fatal while negotiating. And though she’d made a noble effort in keeping them at bay thus far, now that they had finally managed in wounding her heart, soon enough she would reveal the truth to him.

“Very well, Slave King,” she sighed, preparing her mind and will to do battle with his.

*****

“My liege,” the young chevaleresse said, bowing low before her liege lord and the master of her order.

She floated above the cold pavement, aided by the same innate magic bubble that all seaponies possessed. Towering over her was Lord Triton the Lawgiver, the just and much beloved deity of the seapony race. Patiently, the much smaller mare waited for her god to address her, for she had much to tell him. As his second, she was serving as her lord’s personal assistant while they remained the Slave King’s guests here in the Domain of Earth.

Although she was still a youth and her great beauty had not yet been marred by battle scars, she was a seasoned warrioress who had known the taste of battle, and of victory. Her lithe and graceful form, belied the skilled bellatrix she was, from all but the most discerning eyes. In fact, if not for the armor of her order she wore and the trident strapped to her back, most might’ve assumed she was nothing more than a maiden beneath the flowing lavender locks of her mane.

Lord Triton looked on her and smiled. “Rise, daughter,” he said, gesturing to her with his fins. “So I hear you’ve had a bit of an adventure.”

To say that she had had a bit of an adventure, was a slight understatement. If truth be told, she’d taken the first strokes with her fins on the currents towards what might be considered a grand quest. She’d finally discovered the identity of the hateful changeling that had nearly slain the greatest knight of her order, cost her lord prestige and the loss of a valuable trading hub, and had even besmirched her personal honor.

And that wasn’t all, the fiend had attempted spiriting away the Elements of Harmony, and they had nearly gotten away with it too. If not for the timely intervention of her and her Earth Domain companions, the sneak thief might have even successfully pinned the blame for the theft on Lord Triton. Causing who knows how much mischief, ensuring that the treaty between her lord and the Slave King ended before it had even begun.

“Lord Triton,” she said, exhaling as she prepared to deliver the terrible news. “I’ve discovered the identity of the one responsible for Sir Hurricane’s loss at Bone’s Landing.”

Lord Triton stroked his magnificent mustache thoughtfully for a moment, nodding in understanding. “You’ve done well, Dame Squall,” he said, placing his fins together. Noticing how filthy her clothes and armor were, the smudges on her pale green skin, and the new trident she carried, he looked at her approvingly. "I take it you had a bit of a scrap with them?”

“Indeed, Lawgiver,” she said, wiping her brow with her fin. “My companions and I, detected a changeling’s presence lurking inside the Slave King’s palace, so we decided to investigate it.”

“So what did you discover?” he asked, curious about her adventure.

“We tracked the changeling down into the Slave King’s treasury,” she explained, recounting what she remembered. “There, we discovered the changeling, wearing the guise of the Slave King’s servant, Second the Doomhound. When we pressed it for answers, the fiend dropped its disguise and attacked us.”

“I see,” he mused, wondering if he had altogether new enemy to worry about. “So how went the battle, did you emerge victorious?”

Disappointed by her failure to apprehend the changeling in order to bring it to justice, she shook her head. “He was a fierce opponent, both skilled and powerful in changeling magic,” she said, describing her part in the battle. “He transformed into the same ghast that attacked Aria the Red the day prior, and then overwhelmed me. If not for my companions, I would’ve surely been slain by the beast.”

“Daughter, then my heart is glad that the changeling failed,” Lord Triton said, placing his fin on her shoulder. “But what was the thief after in the Slave King’s treasury?”

“The Elements of Harmony,” Dame Squall said, wishing she had been stronger so she could’ve vanquished them.

“Are you telling me that the Slave King possessed the Elements of Harmony, and now somepony managed to steal them away from him?” he asked, slightly agitated at the revelation.

“Thankfully no,” Dame Squall replied, remembering the torrent of water that rushed towards them, saving both them and the elements from the changeling thief and assassin. “Jormungandr, stepped in and saved us, but the elements were lost to us in the rushing water.”

“Then they could be anywhere,” the Lawgiver said, relieved that the elements hadn’t fallen into enemy fins, but disappointed that were undoubtedly by now, spread to the far reaches of creation.

“Lord Triton, forgive me for failing to stop him,” she said, lowering her head in shame for her failure.

“Dame Squall, come,” he commanded, turning towards the door. “We shall confront the Slave King about this. That he had the Elements of Harmony, and chose to hide them from the rest of the Pantheon is inexcusable.”

“Lawgiver,” she said, looking into his sea green eyes. “I don’t believe the Slave King even knew he ever possessed them. Apparently, they were once his tears.”

“His tears?” he asked, wondering how such a heartless soul could ever possess any of the qualities represented by the Elements of Harmony. “I need to discuss this with the Slave King. The sudden reappearance of Jormungandr after such a long absence, alone bears discussion.”

“Alright, Lord Triton,” she agreed, following after him as he headed towards the exit.

Traveling beside her liege in her official capacity felt somewhat exciting. With a few other scant exceptions, she’d yet performed any of her duties as her lord’s second yet. But in this instance, she’d be directly confronting the Slave King on her master’s behalf. Although she’d had prior dealings with the wayfarer turned god before, her purpose in speaking with him previously had always been due to chance rather than her duty.

The Slave King, now there was somepony that she had mixed feelings about. She’d always believed him to be some terrible monster whose endless ambition was only held in check by Lord Triton’s grace and her order’s military might. But now she wasn’t quite sure how to feel about him. Sure, there was his sacking and the consequent conquest of Bone’s Landing. But instead of enslaving all the city’s inhabitants and pressing them into bondage, he’d agreed to leave them unmolested as long as his claim over the city was recognized.

Then there were his servants. Even though she’d only known of the Slave King’s shadow knights by reputation alone, the opinion that she’d held of ‘The Order of the Shadow’ was that they were comprised of nothing more than degenerate brutes, whose only purpose in battle, was reveling in the bloodshed and carnage they so joyously caused. But then she’d met the head of their order, and the words he’d offered her still resonated within her breast. Our master’s quarrels needn’t be ours… At the time she hadn’t realized quite what he’d meant, but after having spent some time together with the Slave King’s servants, namely Melody the Yellow, Gunhilde, and Dawson, she’d found each of them to be worthy companions in their own way, Dawson especially.

She’d first met him on the field of honor, they were both semifinalists in the tournament in honor of their masters. She’d been so confident then, and so sure of her prowess in battle, that she’d haughtily approached her mudslinger opponent unworried about the outcome. For what possible defeat would she ever fear from her unworthy opponent? After all, she was a chevaleresse of the Lawgiver, and none were more skilled. While he was nothing more than a lowly slave of the Slave King, at least that’s what she’d convinced herself to believe.

But then their fight had gone somewhat differently then she’d anticipated. First blood had gone to her, which only bolstered her confidence in her chances at defeating her beastfolk opponent. But then in the second round, he’d gotten in a lucky strike with his spear, winning the round, and knocking off her helmet in the process. Silently she’d placed her helmet back on her head, and readied herself to win the final round of combat.

As soon as the flugelhorns sounded, she threw caution to the wind and launched a flurry of attacks, hoping to unbalance him and allow her to win the round. But instead of victory, he proceeded using a series of unorthodox moves, which resulted in stunning and disarming her, granting him the victory instead. When she’d realized that she’d lost to him, she became furious. She hadn’t expected her opponent to trap her weapon and strike her. By disarming her so easily, he’d completely shamed and embarrassed her in front of her sisters, order, and even her deity.

Then Dawson did something that she’d have never had expected one of his kind to ever do. He attempted handing her, her weapon. Thinking about how ungraciously she’d reacted towards him than, made her cheeks flush crimson. Embarrassed and angry at losing the match, she’d called him mudslinger filth and a thug, and had accused him of acting without honor. When they met next, it was as spectators rather than as warriors.

She’d seen him sitting beside Melody as they ate a meal together, and had decided to confront him for defeating her through trickery. Shouting a challenge at him, she was inches from his shemagh covered face. Staring at each other, each waited to see who would blink first. Looking into his warm brown eyes, she felt compelled to draw closer to him. Being so close to him, she’d smelt both the food he’d been eating and sweetness of the ale that he’d been drinking on his breath, and found her mouth watering in response. Whether it was prompted in anticipation of sating her own hunger or by something else she wasn’t sure.

But then the unthinkable happened. Unable to stop herself, she ripped off his shemagh, grabbed his face, and kissed him deeply. Even now, remembering that kiss still made her fins and tail tingle. Of course at the time, she’d been completely mortified at what had happened between them, and had slapped him hard for taking liberties with her virtue by stealing a kiss from her. At least that’s how she’d tried rationalizing away what had happened between them.

And then lastly, there was the night of the Slave King’s five hundredth inauguration. She’d been thoroughly enjoying herself, the food had been good, and the wine even better. Well to be frank, the wine had been more than better, it was simply divine. She’d tried at first practicing moderation in her drinking, as was the rule that all the knights of the Lawgiver followed, the chaste chevaleresse especially. But then Lord Triton began drinking beyond that which was wise.

It was her responsibility as his second, to try stopping her liege, but he’d dismissed her concerns out of fin and told her to enjoy herself. At first she tried only sipping the wine. But one cup became two, two eventually became seven, and before she knew it, she and Dawson were drunkenly dancing together. Even in her inebriated state, it was obvious to her that they had both had too much to drink. He even more so then she.

While dancing together, she’d found the dexterous talons pressed against her back exciting. As the night progressed, she’d became emboldened by the wine and had started pressing herself ever closer to him. She’d found herself enjoying his warmth, and feeling the strength of his arms wrapped around her. It was then that she decided to offer him another kiss, and though he possessed feathers instead of scales, and talons instead of fins, she needed to feel him once more.

Kissing him deeply, she found herself melting into his arms, and pressed herself hard against him. How long the kiss lasted, she couldn’t remember. But what she did know, was that she’d wanted to be as close to him as possible. She’d spied an unoccupied room, and giggling like filly, she’d gently guided him towards it with her fin. Once they were inside and alone, she clumsily kissed him while offering him a seductive look of enflamed passion and wanton desire.

Taking the hint, he tried unsuccessfully removing his clothes as he fumbled with the clasps and buttons. Deciding to help him disrobe, she laughed as their limbs became entangled trying to remove his tunic. What she remembered of that dark intimate room, left her heart all aflutter. But before they could go much further in doing something they both might’ve regretted in the morning, Melody walked in, interrupting before they were able to go any further.

Fortunately for them, the harper had been more moderate in her drinking then herself, and had been keeping an eye on Dawson. With a kind smile, she’d politely asked her if having drunken sex in a closet was something that a chaste chevaleresse of the Lawgiver would do. Turning crimson with both embarrassment and unfulfilled desire, she’d shook her head no.

Her eyes stung, as her tears freely fell. She’d felt so ashamed of herself, for nearly loosing herself with Dawson in drunken debauchery. Rutting like wild beasts in heat was something that mudslingers did, not a refined knight of the Lawgiver. As she wept in sorrow, Melody drew her into a comforting hug, telling her that her secret was safe with her. Breaking from her warm embrace, she helped her get Dawson, who by now had passed out on the floor, to bed.

Even though the following evening had been difficult, she’d somehow managed to make it through. When she awoke the next morning with a clearer head and loins which no longer burned with desire, she was grateful that Melody had interceded when she had. She didn’t know how she could’ve faced her liege after breaking her vow of chastity. But more importantly, she didn’t know how she could look Dawson in the eye after robbing him of his virtue. Although he seemed eager enough at the time, his inexperience at handling his liquor was telling, and she’d hate to have had a part in something he’d later regret.

When he’d approached her later that morning, inviting her to share breakfast together with him and Melody, he seemed happy enough to spend time in her company. But then her sisters decided to have a bit of fun with her slack jawed suitor, when he found difficulty in finding the words to ask her to join him at their table. She’d been fine with it at first, after all everypony liked a good laugh every now and again. But then when they insulted his worth, she found herself wanting to slap the sneer off of Dame Calm Breeze’s haughty muzzle.

Although they probably held the same erroneous beliefs she’d once held about those from the South. She knew that at least in Dawson’s case, he was a stallion of quality, and somepony worth knowing. His actions later that day confirmed what she already knew. Holding back the ghast unaided and alone, save for her faith in the Lawgiver to guide and protect her, she fought the fiend as well as she could. But in the end, it had proved too much for her, and had eventually overwhelmed her with its attacks. Then as she lay unconscious and dying, while the ghast was siphoning away the last of her life energy, he came back.

She’d thought to buy them enough time to escape with Aria to safety, because her attacks were the only thing seemingly able to phase or even slow it down. But at great risk to himself, he returned to defend her, and had rushed headlong into the fray. Somehow, he’d managed wounding the specter, successfully driving it back into the shadows from whence it came. The first thing she could remember was waking up in his warm strong arms, feeling completely at peace with herself and the world.

“Daughter?” she heard Lord Triton ask, stopping in front of a mural depicting Lord Darkpaw and Lady Zephyr in battle. “I sense somepony is consuming your thoughts.”

Realizing her thoughts of Dawson had brought a rosy blush to her cheeks, her face grew even pinker as she looked away from her liege, embarrassed that he’d discovered her thinking unchaste thoughts about the griffin-half.

“Forgive me, master,” Dame Squall said, sorry that she’d indulged in such thoughts, when there were more pressing matters to attend to. “I shall strive to keep my mind on the present.”

“Dame Squall,” he said, offering her an understanding smile. Looking at the mural, he sighed when he remembered the passion those two had once shared. “It’s a marvel and a wonder when we discover the one destined to be our other half. Though it’s tempting to give into the passion they stir in us, like fire it can burn you if you’re not careful. Instead, I recommend channeling that passion to drive you to do greater things.”

“I’ll remember that, Lawgiver,” she said, vowing to never allow the swelling in her breast to cause her to forget her sworn duty.

He moved to continue towards the Slave King’s throne room, before stopping once more. Looking at her with his aquamarine eyes, he gave her a thoughtful look. “Does he know how lucky he is?” he asked her.

“Does who know what?” she replied, wondering what he meant.

“The one who managed to win your heart,” Lord Triton said, looking at the ancient mural once more.

“I…” Dame Squall stammered, unsure of whether or not she truly did love him.

“You should tell him, daughter,” he said, placing a fin gently on her shoulder. “Before somepony else wins over his heart.”

“I will, Lord Triton,” she said, hoping that her courage wouldn’t fail her when she saw him next.

Satisfied with her answer, the Lawgiver resumed his journey to see the Slave King. “But, Dame Squall,” he said, looking into her emerald eyes. “Make sure you tell him another thing as well.”

“Of course, Lawgiver,” she said, wondering what else he wanted her to say.

“Make sure he knows that if ever breaks your heart, the fury of the order will break his bones,” he said, with a slight grin.

Knowing she was so loved by her deity brought a smile to her muzzle. “Oh, I shall, Lord Triton,” she agreed, floating to his side and escorting him the remainder of the way in silence.

*****

The room felt stifling to her. As greatly as she desired to prowl through the shadows as she usually did around this time, there was the small matter of her condition. She had precious little strength left, she’d given it all to her lord and master. Now as a result, she was as weak as a newborn whelp. Even now, though she felt being unable to leave the room was tiresome, she didn’t once regret aiding him when he needed her help.

He was her entire purpose for living, for being. He was her alpha and omega. He was her creator, and she considered him her beginning and end. There was no other way to say it, he was everything to her, and without him she was incomplete. Which made her current condition all the more frustrating. He was all alone now, without her by his side protecting him from those who sought him harm.

Some foul curse had befallen him, leaving him at the mercy of others. But here in the South, there was no mercy, only treachery. And treachery had befallen him. Both gods and fate had schemed against him, while traitors from within and enemies without had conspired together to ensure his downfall.

Breathing in deeply, she narrowed her eyes when she caught the traitor’s scent. Oh, how she longed to visit her fury upon him, to punish him for his disloyalty. But she lacked the strength to even break an egg between her paws, let alone harm a doomhound, and the traitor was considered the greatest of their number. So all she could do for now was bide her time, and wait for the right opportunity to enact vengeance on her master’s behalf.

She felt her tail moving of its own accord, as she steadily breathed in and out. Looking at the shadows dancing on the walls, being cast from the dimly lit magical lamps lining the walls made her sigh. The shadows, they were her domain. She supposed that none beyond her master, and Luna her new mistress, had greater mastery over them. She longed to leap into its comforting silken darkness, and use it to rejoin her master’s side. But weak as she was, she doubted she could even travel the breadth of the room, let alone traverse the length of the palace.

Though this was his room, she was glad that she’d managed to banish the traitor from her presence. She knew that deep down, he’d only obeyed in order to humor her, rather than out of fear from her threatened reprisal. Was this what she’d been reduced to? She who was the dark terror of the night. The one whose name most refused to even whisper, lest they catch the attention of her fierce red eyes, sharp teeth, and cruel claws.

Looking at the wall beside her, she saw the numerous gashes she’d left behind in frustration over her condition. She’d lost count of how many times she’d raked her claws against the wall. In the end she’d given up. The stone was too strong for her, and the only damage she’d managed to inflict against it was to its plaster. She was certainly glad that no one could see her now, for if they did she’d never manage to live the humiliation down.

She thought back to her first kill. It had been a fool of a diamond dog, who’d had the misfortune of running into her place of birth. In a rage over the loss of a few insignificant mortals, her master had released a cry of anguish so powerful, it had willed her into being. Although she didn’t realize it at the time, he’d unwittingly used his divinity and spoken the word of power in his unbridled fury.

At first, all she knew was darkness. But as his unconscious will and divinity shaped and formed her, his first command to her formed in her mind. Kill them all! In the beginning, she’d found the command an odd one. Kill, what’s that? And who am I to kill? she'd wondered, as she pondered after the command's meaning. But when she caught the scent of her first victim, and had tasted their fear, terror, and dread. She felt something, an insatiable hunger that needed to be fed.

Chasing after him through the gem mine’s dark winding tunnels, she began playing with him. Traveling through the shadows unseen, she was right beside him the entire way. Then, before he managed to escape, she’d leapt out and tackled him from a side passage. Bowled over by her much stronger and larger bulk, the diamond dog was dead before he even hit the ground. Driven completely by the hunger and instinct, she’d snapped his neck with her powerful jaws, before tearing him into pieces with her sharp claws.

Looking down at the bloody remains, she felt nothing. Which confused her greatly, because just moments before the diamond dog had been the entire focus of her hunger. But now when she beheld her victim's lifeless form, it stirred nothing within her. Even though she’d just killed like the great hunger demanded, it was still unsatisfied. But fortunately for her, she wouldn’t have to wait long before she could try sating it. Three others had heard the commotion, and had come to investigate. Two large miners, and a tiny pup chasing after a small red ball.

Confused by the hunger that still drove her, and the remains that had left her unfulfilled, she retreated to the safety that the shadows offered her. It was like returning to the comfort of a warm bed. For within the darkness she possessed perfect clarity. Without much thought, she quickly dispatched the two miners, before turning her attention to the tiny pup standing before her.

Held in its tiny paws, was a red ball. Looking at it, she noticed it was nearly the same color as the blood and gore she’d managed to coat herself and the walls in. Staring down at the tiny thing, she saw that the pup made no move to run, only staring at her in a stupor. She wondered, was she to kill the pup as well? But moments later when the hunger called, she had her answer.

In one swift bite she ended the pup, leaving its corpse behind with the eviscerated remains of the others. Before dying, it hadn’t even let out as much as a whimper. It simply dropped the ball to the ground, as the toy rolled away from her through the bloody mess. Leaving the mine behind her, she entered the outskirts of the city and smiled when she saw hundreds of other potential prey milling about, completely unaware of the danger she offered them.

Each held a unique scent, and each elicited the same ravenous hunger within her. Spying a nearby house, she silently crept up towards it, and spied on the occupants inside. They were a group of diamond dogs sitting down to enjoy a meal together. She saw several young pups, a few older ones, a hound and a bitch respectively, and even an elderly one well past his prime.

Seeing this new scene, made her experience something new. Something she’d never known before. This feeling burned within her, like an inferno. The happiness they held together, it burned within her like a white hot knife. Eventually, she come to know to know this feeling as hate. Hatred for those who’d hurt him. Hatred for those whose happiness had come at his expense. Hatred for them all!

Wishing to sate the endless hunger once more, she leapt out of her hiding spot, broke through a window, and landed on their table. With a powerful swipe of her paw she decapitated the bitch, making her blood spray all over the table and the others. When they saw her blood stained coat and gore covered maw, the pups screamed in terror as the male charged her. He fought her with such ferocity, he nearly managed to drive her away. But then the hunger returned, and with it, the hate. Leaping on top of him, she broke his back with her paw, before turning her attention to the older hound that stood between her and the frightened weeping pups.

The old hound bared his teeth and swiped his claws at her, but she was stronger and faster. With a deft bite, she snapped his neck, and dropped his lifeless corpse to the ground. The broken hound behind her started screaming something unintelligible at her as she killed each pup in turn. She didn’t quite understand what he was saying, but when all the pups lay dead at her paws, and she turned to face him, she saw his large blue eyes full of tears and fury. They glared accusingly at her, evoking the same feeling she’d felt earlier. The hate.

He hated her, as much as she hated him. Seeing the hatred he held for her filled her with pleasure, the reasons for which she found incomprehensible. She didn’t know why she was being compelled to kill, but after giving it some thought decided it didn’t matter. Killing the others had been a profoundly pleasurable experience, and she could scarcely wait to experience it again. Hearing screams and a loud commotion coming from outside, she knew that she’d be shortly experiencing it once more. The delicious feelings she felt when she looked down at the paralyzed hound, made her almost sorry she had to kill him, but the hunger would not be denied. With a quick snap of her jaws, she killed the crippled hound, and prepared to resume the slaughter.

After that, things began to blur together in an orgy of death, entrails, and blood. The faces of each of her victims began melting together like hot wax. She no longer cared who they were. Young and old, richly dressed or in plain rags, her hunger drove her to slay them all. In the end, even ponies and griffins became fair game, as she reveled in the pleasure of the kill that their deaths offered her.

With tooth and claw, she cut a deep swath of destruction towards the city’s center. Why? She had no idea, only that she was compelled to go there. It wasn’t long before she began facing heavily armed diamond dogs, griffins, and ponies. As she slew them, she found the ponies and griffins were decidedly less enthusiastic about driving her back, then the armored hounds leading them from behind. The discovery that some of them wore chains didn’t matter to her in the slightest. Her hunger demanded they all die.

Once the lopsided battle was finished, she stood triumphantly over their corpses. In the chaos, a lucky few had managed to escape her. But she wasn’t worried, she could easily hunt them down later. Licking away the gore from her blood slicked maw, she resumed her journey towards the large building she’d been inexplicably drawn to. Before she could take two steps forward, a sound caught her attention. Looking behind her, she saw some movement from the shadows in a nearby alleyway. Deciding to confront whoever it was that had so foolishly chosen to follow her, she boldly approached them fully intent on slaying them.

When she approached the place where light met darkness, she felt her heart skip a beat and her pulse quicken. Within the shadows laid something far more terrible than she, and it made her know fear. This feeling, she didn’t like it! The shadows, a place that she’d only ever known as a comfort, now filled her with dread. Her dander rose, as she dug her claws into the pavement and prepared to do battle with whatever it was that lay inside. Even though she didn’t wish to confront them, the hunger and her pride compelled her to. For there could only be one monster here, and she was determined to ensure that monster was her.

Before she could leap into the shadow and tear whatever it was to pieces, a pair of green flames appeared in the darkness above her. Looking into them, she felt them searching her for the smallest imperfection, judging her worthiness. It was like staring into a dark void, which threatened to devour her whole if it found her wanting in the least. Although she found the green flames terrifying she also found them rather exhilarating, and if she could she would’ve been content basking in their power for eternity.

Then she heard a raspy voice say to her, “Come…”

Hearing the voice, filled her heart with joy and wonderment. The green fire desired her! Forgetting her prior fear and terror, she walked into the shadow and saw him for the first time. He looked nothing like the others she’d slain so far. Wearing bloodied and filthy rags, the speaker of the voice had a metal face, and with the exception of his greying beard, possessed little hair that she could see.

He looked down at her for a moment, before reaching out with his hand to touch her. When she felt his fingers scratching her behind the ears, her spirit soared. This was the essence of joy, basking in the afterglow of the slaughter, while enjoying the delicious feeling of her ears getting scratched. Sitting down on her haunches, she sat with her tongue hanging out and eyes closed in pure bliss, as he kept attending to her ears. How long they stayed like that together she didn’t know, but then he stopped for some unknown reason.

When she no longer felt the pleasure of his fingers scratching her ears, she whined with displeasure. Looking up at him disapprovingly, she tried willing him with her eyes to return to the task for which he was solely made. When he didn’t do as she commanded, she placed her head expectantly beneath his hand, and waited for him to return to his duty. But instead of scratching her ears once more, he narrowed his burning eyes as he offered her a steely look.

“Well, aren’t you a rather demanding creature,” he remarked, looking down at her.

Why did you stop? she crossly said, feeling put out that he was refusing to employ his fingers for their only intended purpose.

“I have more pressing business to attend to,” he said, looking at the large building in the distance.

More pressing then scratching my ears? she incredulously asked, scarcely believing anything could ever take precedence over the delicious feeling of having her ears scratched by his wondrous fingers.

“What is your name?” he asked her, refusing to look away from the building.

When confronted with the question, ‘What is your name?’ she didn’t know how to respond. She just was, she’d never considered the need for a name before. All she’d ever known was the great hunger that had driven her forth in search of new prey, the pleasure of the kill, the burning hatred for her enemies, and now the joy of feeling him scratch her behind the ears. When confronted with the possibility she’d never possess one, she suddenly felt hollow and empty, as she became acquainted with both sorrow and regret.

Laying her ears back, she looked up at him plaintively. I have no name, she said, despairing that she’d never possess a name of her own.

He turned to look at her, and she beheld his hardened eyes soften somewhat. Placing his finger on her head, his eyes flared with power. “You shall be called Nightmare,” he said, his raspy voice taking on a solemn tone. “For cold shadows and burning rage spawned you, and from the darkness you sprang forth.”

The moment the words passed his lips, she felt his power enter her, binding him to her, and her to him. In that moment, she knew he was all she’d ever need. His will was hers, his desires were hers, and his enemies were hers. Her only desire was to be forever at his side, feeding the great hunger that was consuming them both. Though she didn’t know it, it was then that she finally discovered love and adoration.

I am, Nightmare, she said, happy to finally have a name and purpose to call her own. No longer would she only be ruled by the hunger that urged her forward. She was determined to use it to serve him in any way that he asked. She had a name now, but what of him? It wouldn’t do for him to be without a name or a purpose to call his own. Worried for the one that consumed all her thoughts, she looked up at him with concern.

Seeing her apprehension, he scratched her behind the ears once more. “I am the Lord of Earth,” he said, patting her head once. “All above the Earth and everything beneath its surface are mine to command, to do with what I will.”

When she heard his words, she was delighted. He had a purpose, just like her. But she was still concerned, he had no name. That would not do. A being as magnificent as he, deserved only the greatest and most auspicious of names.

“I was known by my former masters, as the slave King,” he said, the fury in his voice becoming palpable. “So you may call me that, the Slave King.”

When she heard the bitterness and anger in his voice directed towards his former masters, she finally understood why she was. Her true purpose, it was vengeance against those who had harmed him. No longer did she wonder why, for she now knew the reason.

Master, she said, stepping in front of him. Let us attend to them.

“Yes, Nightmare,” the Slave King said with a dark chuckle. “We shall…”

Remembering the fateful day of her creation, filled her with a perfect sense of clarity and renewal of purpose. Even though he’d chosen to betray her to be with that pony whore, she’d always return to him. She felt the ever present need to be by his side ache deep in her bones, and knew she had to go to him. Struggling to her feet, she trembled as she stood up. Walking towards the shadows that were dancing against the wall, when it enveloped her she welcomed the darkness’s cool familiar embrace.

Following the ley lines of shadow, she traveled through the palace towards the throne room, where she sensed he was. Although her strength was sapped, and traveling through the darkness was taxing the scant few reserves she had left, he needed her and that was all the reason she required. She imagined how glad he’d be when he saw her returning to his side, and could almost feel his dexterous fingers moving behind her ears once again. Soon, they would slay his enemies and feed the ever present hunger together.

It had been far too long since they had last shed blood together. In fact, he hardly went out into the city to slay the undead with her anymore. Perhaps they could slaughter some changeling trespassers, or lay waste to one of the pony squatter settlements together. Yes, that’s exactly what he needed, killing some ponies. It would show the pony whore and her sister, they weren’t to be trifled with.

When she imagined the panicked cries of terror of the squatters as they raided the chosen settlement, she smiled. It would be a great joy to see him once more as he once was. But deep in her heart, she knew he’d always answer her no, and all thanks to that pony whore. She’d made her master weak, and ruined him! If she possessed tears, she’d have cried for what had become of her once great master.

“Hello, Nightmare,” she heard a voice call out from the shadows. “Fancy meeting you here."

Tiroc! she snarled, in no mood to deal with the fallen god’s delusions.

“You know, very few these days dare speak my name unbidden,” he said, his voice echoing through the choking darkness of the ley line.

That’s because they’re all cowards and weaklings, she replied, flashing her razor sharp teeth at him. Only a fool afraid of their own shadow, would be afraid of a fallen god like you.

“Ah, there’s the lovely wit I’ve always appreciated,” Tiroc said, chuckling at her impudence. “Come serve me, Nightmare, a lady of your talents is wasted on ilk like the Slave King.”

Tiroc, why would I ever serve a broken husk like you? Nightmare snorted, scoffing at the very idea of betraying her master to him. The Slave King is a far greater and cleverer deity then you could ever hope to be.

“Don’t you mean a child, ever content to make mud pies in the sand box the others allowed him to play in,” the unmentionable one countered.

Silence, blowhard, she said, baring her fangs once more. Before I come down to Tartarus to teach you some proper respect.

“You could be so much more,” he said, offering her a glimpse of the future. “Imagine ruling over your own domain, maybe then the Slave King might do more than simply scratch you behind the ears. He might even be willing to scratch that other itch, eh?”

When she heard his offer and saw the accompanying vision, she paused. What he offered did seem tempting, but she knew all his promises were worthless, and only a fool would ever accept any bargain he offered.

As always, Tiroc, she sniffed, kicking up some darkness behind her. I think I’ll pass.

“Think it over, Nightmare,” he said, offering her a vision of her master and his new wife together. “It’s just a shame he’s willing to love someone he hardly knows, rather than the one who’s willingly served him for half a millennium.”

He doesn’t love her! she protested, enraged that Tiroc thought to provoke her ire.

“Of course he doesn’t, Nightmare,” he said, making the images disappear as his laughter faded into the darkness. “Of course he doesn’t.”

He doesn’t love her… she whimpered, trying to convince herself he was staying true.

Deciding that she’d had enough of the unmentionable one’s foolishness, she resumed her journey. Exiting out of the ley line, she appeared in one of the side passages that led into the throne room. Excited to be by her master’s side once more, she willed herself forward, determined to return to her rightful place beside his throne. Rounding a corner, the throne room came into view. What she saw there nearly broke her heart. Sitting in her spot, was the pony whore, Luna, being kissed by her master the Slave King, in front of his entire court for all to see.

No, she whimpered, struggling to move her legs so she could flee away from the hurtful scene. No…

Author's Note

Thank you gentlereader for reading chapter five of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, as always comments are appreciated.

It appears that Luna has reached an accord with the voice that has tormented her for so long. In exchange for her friendship, the voice has promised to aid in her quest to win the Slave King's heart. We can only wonder where this friendship born from such dubious circumstances will lead. Will the voice now that it sworn an oath to her, make good on its promises, or is this just another of its many lies? And as for the Slave King, what will he do when he learns that his wife has conspired together with such an unsavory character to make him love her. Will he decide to play along, or will he push back even more, forcing them to resort to more heavy handed tactics?

It seems that Dame Squall pines after Dawson, but does she truly love him as Lord Triton suggests, or is her feelings merely passing infatuation enflamed by his exotic nature and roguishly handsome looks? We can only wonder if he remembered the night they drunkenly spent together, would he have regrets that things didn't reach their natural conclusion, or happy that they didn't take advantage of each others inebriated states. But an even more interesting question to ask would be, what his mother Lady Zephyr might say if she knew what adventures her son had nearly gotten himself into, under the auspices of enchanted wine and the wiles an older woman. Hopefully for Dawson's sake, we never find out.

We see Lady Nightmare's introspection regarding her creation has left us with some interesting questions to ask. If it was the Slave King's rage that birthed her, is the rage which still burns within her, truly hers, or her master's. And since she loves her master so, are those feelings truly hers to give to him. Or is it like the compulsion to hate and kill his enemies, that compels her to love him. And if these feelings aren't truly hers, then what does she have left to call her own?

And as for Tiroc, what game is he trying to play with Nightmare? What does he hope to achieve by enticing Nightmare with false promises? And how does he know her well enough to ensure she saw the kiss between the Slave King and Luna?

Find out the answers to these questions and more, in the next exciting chapter of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, coming soon to computer near you!

Once again, gentlereader, thank you for reading and all your kind words and support. You make writing worthwhile. Until next time!

P.S. I've run out of prewritten content, so future chapter releases won't be weekly, but as I complete them.

Chapter 6: The War at Home, First Blood

The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter

A Story by TalonMach5

Chapter 6: The War at Home, First Blood

“Very well, Slave King,” she said, looking into the green flames that composed the Lord of Earth’s eyes.

Staring up at him, she felt small and insignificant under the gaze of his burning eyes, which she didn’t like at all. Long ago, she was even more feared then he, but now like so many of the other fallen gods, she was a mere echo of what she once was. But none of that mattered now, the only thing that mattered was the survival of herself and her people. There would be time enough later, to plot her revenge against all those who had dared frame her hive for these crimes.

Deciding that she needed to cut right to the heart of the matter, she levitated the summons in front of him. “What evidence do you have that any of these supposed crimes took place?” she angrily said, hoping to put him off balance with her righteous indignation. “Let alone, that any of my changelings were the least bit responsible?”

“Queen Ambrosia,” the Slave King replied, tapping his finger against his throne. “The fact that these events occurred isn’t in dispute. Nor is the certainty that a changeling was solely responsible for the crimes outlined in the summons.”

“And where is the supposed evidence, that a changeling was even present when any of this even occurred?” she countered, hoping to force him to reveal more of his hoof to her, before she ran out of arguments based on the scarce information she possessed.

“There were multiple witnesses who saw the self-same changeling at the scene of each crime,” he said, tilting his head slightly as he wondered where she hoped to go with these continuous denials of her guilt.

“Then I demand to see these witnesses, Slave King,” she boldly said, trying her best to mask the fear she had of him.

“Queen Ambrosia,” the Slave King said, slightly amused by her impudence. “Your bargaining position is highly dubious.”

“It is my right!” she shouted, pointing a hoof accusingly at him. “The law gives me the right to face my accusers, and furthermore…”

“And furthermore nothing!” the Slave King roared, furious that any thought to command him, let alone compel him here in the very seat of his power. Suddenly he felt quite weak and lethargic. Rather than invigorating him, all his fury had managed to do was burn through the last vestiges of his meager reserves of strength.

Noticing her husband’s struggle, Luna smiled to herself. He had no other choice now, he’d either give her the kiss she desired, or would fall off his throne onto the ground. Beloved, she whispered to him through the connection to the Domain of Shadow they both shared. Is something amiss with thee?

Wife, you know damn well what’s wrong, he said, even struggling to voice his anger in this place.

We have no idea of what thou speaketh, beloved, she demurely said, offering him a serene beguiling smile. We are still granting thee the selfsame amount of our divinity thou requested we bequeath unto thee earlier.

Then why am I so weak? he asked, hoping she had an answer. What you gave should have been more than sufficient.

Husband, dost thou requireth more of our aid? she asked, cutting right to the heart of the matter.

It would be most appreciated, the Slave King replied, grateful for a reprieve from his lack of strength.

Beloved, such things have a price, she hinted, laying her head against his shoulder.

Wife, how mercenary of you, he deadpanned, knowing exactly where the conversation was headed.

Husband, how dare thee implicate us possessing little more loyalty than a common sell sword, she complained, hurt that he thought so poorly of her. Thou hast brought this upon thyself. Had thou rationed and preserved thy strength, thou wouldst have little need of additional succor.

Wife, you’ve been provoking me all morning, he countered, trying to absolve himself of any blame.

Hast we asked of thee, beloved, she said, nuzzling against his cheek. Any more than any other wife might expect from their husband? We tell thee nay.

When he heard her protestations, he nodded in agreement. Truly, he’d been a poor husband to her thus far, but she’d freely chosen this life. If she was unhappy now, she had no one to blame but herself. Then again, he’d also agreed to marry her, regardless of the extenuating circumstances prompting his marriage to her.

Very well, wife, he said, acknowledging that his accusation towards her had been improper. Forgive me for being unkind.

She offered him a tender smile, happy that he’d seen fit to recant his slur against her. Beloved, we forgive thee for thy outburst, she said, looking into his eyes.

So what will it cost me, to gain your further support? he asked, unsure how much longer he could continue sitting upright in his throne.

Beloved, our aid to thee shall cost thee little, she said, batting her eyes at him and licking her lips in anticipation. Whensoever thou requireth more of our divinity, thou simply needeth to kiss us, and we shall bequeath thee thy request.

“Slave King, is something the matter?” Queen Ambrosia asked, confused by his silence. “Will you fulfill your obligations to me like the law requires?”

“Verily, husband,” Princess Luna teased, placing her hoof against his hand. “What is thy answer?”

For the first time in centuries, he didn’t know what to do. All he needed was to kiss his wife, and her strength would flow into him. But how could she expect him to do that in such a public setting? With few options left open to him, he did the only thing he could. Placing his hand gently on his wife’s muzzle, he tenderly kissed her. Immediately, he was rewarded with a greater portion of her divinity.

Beyond the newly renewed strength returning to him, he felt something else return as well. A burning desire to be possessed by her. It was an interesting sensation to say the least, his mind and missing heart screamed at him to break away from her, but his body and instincts demanded he continue bathing in her divinity, until things reached their penultimate conclusion.

“Slave King, have I come at a bad time for you?” he heard an amused Lord Triton ask.

Relieved that the Lawgiver had granted him a reprieve from this unwelcomed lust, he quickly broke off the kiss and sat back in his throne. “Lord Triton, not at all,” he replied, trying his best to mask his flushed and aroused state from his fellow deity.

“Well, I’m happy to see that married life agrees with you,” the Lawgiver said, smiling warmly at the married couple.

“It’s been something else, I’ll give you that,” the Slave King said, giving his wife a cautious look. “But I take it you have more than well wishes to offer me before your departure, Lawgiver.”

Approaching his throne, he glanced at the changeling queen for a moment before addressing the Lord of Earth. “When were you planning on telling the rest of the Pantheon, that you possessed the Elements of Harmony?” the Lawgiver plainly asked, causing the Slave King’s courtroom to become deathly still.

When she heard Lord Triton mention the elements, Queen Ambrosia’s mouth hung open. She couldn’t believe that not only had he somehow managed to recover the lost artifacts, but had lost them as well. “Slave King,” she said, furious that he’d doomed them all. “Are you telling me that you possessed the Elements of Harmony, and allowed them to be stolen?”

“Queen Ambrosia, this matter doesn’t concern you,” the Slave King rumbled, unhappy that she felt it was her place to lecture him. “Your only concern is your part in these crimes against me.”

“Lord Triton, I expect you to support my claim against him,” she said, turning to face the Lawgiver. “The Slave King has the gall to accuse me of the most heinous of crimes, and yet can’t even be bothered to allow me to face my accusers. Additionally there’s the matter of the Elements of Harmony.”

When confronted by her complaint, there was little he could do. The law was quite clear in this regard, anypony accused by another had the right to face their accuser. Of course as the Lord of Earth, the Slave King did have the final say on how justice was administered in his domain, but as a former member of the pantheon, Queen Ambrosia was justified in expecting certain considerations.

“Slave King,” he said, thoughtfully stroking his mustache. “The law is on her side in this matter, withholding the protection of the law from her would be improper.”

When he heard that he was being expected to extend the changeling queen the courtesy of the full protection of the law, he scowled. Once again to his detriment, the law was being used against him. “Very well, Lord Triton. Let it never be said, that the Slave King is unjust in anyway,” he said, tightening his mouth. Turning towards the changeling queen, he gave her a dour look, letting her know exactly how felt about this. “Those who have witnessed against your hive are my servants Melody the Yellow, Gunhilde my cupbearer, and Chrysalis her charge.”

“Slave King, the summons mentioned four witnesses against me in this matter,” Queen Ambrosia countered, hoping this matter might be dismissed on a technicality.

Knowing what she’d hoped to accomplish, the corners of the Slave King’s mouth turned into a smug grin. “There was a fourth witness, Queen Ambrosia,” he said, looking at Lord Triton.

When she heard him mention the fourth, she pawed the ground nervously. Any hopes that this matter might be swept beneath the carpet were now obliterated. “Then where is your witness?” she asked, desperately trying to think of anything she could use to protect herself.

Pointing a finger at the seapony by Lord Triton’s side, he gestured for her to approach his throne. “A chevaleresse of the Lawgiver, Dame Squall the Relentless,” he said, allowing the revelation of the requisite fourth witness to sink into her mind. “She was present at the scene of each of the crimes committed against me. With her testimony, there’s no doubt regarding your guilt.”

“But what cause would we have seeking to harm you?” the changeling queen implored, worried that she’d finally run out of options.

The Slave King considered her words. He knew he had her dead to rights, all she was trying to do now was delay the inevitable. Unlike what had happened between himself and Celestia, this time he wouldn’t be robbed of justice. Seeing the changeling queen before him, he was sorely tempted to add her to his collection in the Cavern of Torment. It would be nice to finally take his frustrations out on someone, even if he wasn’t entirely sure of their guilt.

Glancing at Chrysalis, who was looking at her fellow changeling with concern, he suspected that like her supposed involvement at Bone’s Landing, Queen Ambrosia was being setup to take the fall for somebody else. If that was the case, the question remained why would a changeling betray their queen, and what possible motive might they have for doing so? Although he knew more about their race than most, they were such a secretive people it was difficult to uncover much about their ways.

He supposed it could be all coincidental. After all, if every misdeed of the diamond dogs was attributed to him, the other domains would have casus belli against him on a list even longer than the length of the Lonely Road. But now he had another problem, how to extricate himself from this mess without looking weak before either Lord Triton or Queen Ambrosia? He must be slipping. Once again he’d stumbled, stepping forward without looking first to see if he’d made the right choice. If Scourge was here, he’d have at least made it a point to consider the possibility that the changelings were innocent.

That wasn’t to say that he was completely convinced of her innocence. But objectively, he couldn’t discount her claim that she gained nothing by provoking him like this. He felt the warmth of his wife’s leg against his arm, and decided on the perfect plan to save his reputation and flummox his wife at the same time. Reaching out with his magic, he sent out a powerful spike of it and sent it coursing through her.

Even though he expected some kind of response from her, he failed to anticipate what happened next. He found himself being pulled forward by his wife’s magic, as she pressed her lips to his, passionately kissing him, and nearly taking his breath away. When she broke their kiss, he looked into her turquoise eyes with faux surprise. “Wife, is there something you desire?” he asked, glad she took the bait.

“Beloved, we art somewhat fatigued,” she demurely suggested, gently nibbling on his ear. “Perhaps we shoulds’t retire to our chambers, for respite from the vigor of thy rule.”

“Wife,” he said, looking at her briefly before returning his burning gaze towards the changeling queen. “I cannot rest until this matter has been satisfactorily resolved.”

“Then what will you do, Slave King?” Lord Triton asked, wondering how he’d reconcile the law with what he thought was his need for vengeance. “Lady Zephyr’s son has returned to the Golden Eyrie, and I believe he and my second were present during the first provocation against you. Even though her testimony is the most damning, in the interests of justice, Dame Squall shall not speak until he’s testified, or the changeling fiend has been apprehended.”

When she heard that the key witness against her was being held up by a technicality, Queen Ambrosia sighed with relief. For the time being she was safe. For how long, she didn’t know, but this reprieve would at least give her a fighting chance. “Lord Triton,” she said, bowing respectfully to him for intervening on her behalf. Truly, your jurisprudence is both reasonable and fair.”

Stroking his mustache, the Lawgiver gave her a thoughtful look. “Queen Ambrosia,” he said, looking at Dame Squall for a moment before returning his attention to her. “The Slave King was not the only party harmed by that changeling. They nearly assassinated my previous second, Sir Hurricane the Gallant. I swear that justice will be done, one way or another.”

Seeing the scene unfold before him, the Slave King wanted to rejoice. Finally things were falling together, and all he had to do was set things into motion. “Melody, come here,” he said, looking towards his harper.

“Yes, Slave King,” she said, putting her lute down and walking towards him.

“I want you to head to the Golden Eyrie, and present a summons to Dawson,” he said, directing Harmony to write one up for him.

“Of course, King da… I mean Slave King,” she said, before correcting herself. “But what if I run into the changeling on the way, he seems to be poking his muzzle a lot in your business lately. Want me to try apprehending him for you?”

“Absolutely not, Melody,” he said, remembering how he’d almost lost her and her sister to the changeling’s predations once before. “Losing you to the assassin’s blade would be most distressing.”

“Slave King,” Chrysalis said, approaching his throne. “Allow me to accompany Melody on this errand. If a changeling truly seeks her harm, I should prove most useful.”

Well aware of her abilities, he nodded approvingly. “That’s a wise precaution, Chrysalis,” he said, looking towards his cupbearer. “Gunhilde, you and Chrysalis shall accompany Melody on this task. See that she reaches the Golden Eyrie, I’m entrusting you both with her safety.”

Bowing low to her master, she fixed her purple eyes on the green flames emanating from his. “Master, we’ll ensure Melody makes it there and back safely,” she promised, happy for a chance to leave his crumbling palace behind if only for a little while.

“Gunhilde, Chrysalis, be careful,” he cautioned, hoping to dissuade them from any heroics they might be tempted to engage in. “Remember, you’re to simply escort Melody there and back, avoiding any confrontations if at all possible.”

“Of course, Slave King,” Chrysalis said, wearing a mischievous smirk.

“Indeed…” the Slave King said, not entirely believing her.

“Master,” she said, bowing low to him. “I promise you, I’ll be nothing but the soul of discretion.”

Hearing their exchange and their plan to go deliver the summons to Dawson, Dame Squall felt the clarion call of the quest deep within her breast, and knew she had to go. If not only to share the feelings she possessed for him which were etched into her heart, but also to avenge both Sir Hurricane and herself upon that honorless changeling blackguard.

Knowing what she had to do, she forsook all the proper decorum and courtly graces which she was expected to exhibit as the Lawgiver’s second. “Slave King,” she said, moving towards his throne with purpose. Withdrawing her trident, she presented it to him. “Earlier today, you said that this weapon once served you. Let it serve you once more. Allow me join Melody the Yellow’s entourage, and I swear on my honor, none shall molest them.”

“Dame Squall,” Lord Triton said, surprised by this unexpected turn of events. “What of your oath to me?”

Closing her emerald eyes, she sighed, determined to do this. As his second, Dame Squall had sworn to forsake all other oaths and quests to serve only her liege. By pledging herself to the Slave King’s service, she’d just broken her oath of fealty to her deity, liege, and master. Although it would be in bad form to withdraw her pledge, she could still do so in order to keep her pledge to the Lawgiver. However, both the call of the quest and her weapon told her that this is what she needed… no had to do.

“My, lord,” she said, reverently bowing to the Lawgiver. “Forgive my impertinence, but please release me from my oath to you so that I might accompany them.”

Raising one as young as her, let alone a chevaleresse as his second, was an unparalleled honor that many of his knights had aspired to over the course of their entire careers. To renounce her oath to him for this, the call of the quest must be strong indeed. But to sacrifice so much for a quest was the true mark of heroism, and as such he couldn’t deny any such a noble request.

Placing a fin on her shoulder, he smiled warmly at her. “Dame Squall the Relentless,” he said, looking down on her. “Go with my blessing, chevaleresse, and bring honor to the order.”

“I swear it, Lawgiver,” she promised, her eyes shining with the love she held for her liege.

“Slave King,” the Lawgiver expectantly said, giving him a look that said he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Will you accept this mare’s pledge?”

Although this was supposed to be a simple mission, with things being as they were lately, he hadn’t any idea if things were unfolding thusly due to someone elses machinations, or if it was mere happenchance. But regardless of his personal reservations, he knew what she’d given up to offer to him her service, and such a sacrifice couldn’t be ignored.

“Chevaleresse, I accept,” he said, wondering what else fate might see fit to cause before the day was through. “Harmony, see to outfitting them properly before they depart.”

“Of course, Slave King,” she said, directing them to follow her out of the throne room.

“As for you, Queen Ambrosia,” the Slave King said, feeling exhaustion setting in as his exertions finally caught up with him. “You’re free to leave. However, once they’ve returned with Dawson of the Golden Eyrie, I expect you to return here to defend yourself.”

The changeling queen nodded once, indicating her acquiescence to his demand. “Once I’ve proven my hive’s innocence, I’ll expect an apology from you and compensation for falsely accusing me,” she said, looking directly into his burning eyes.

Scowling in displeasure at her presumption, he dismissively waved his metal hand, signaling that he was finished with her for now. Turning towards the arch duke, he leaned against his wife for support. “Yipyap, court is adjourned for now,” he said, glad for the opportunity to rest.

Picking up the Slave King with her magic, Luna stood up and gently placed him on her back. “Beloved, allow us to carry thee to our quarters,” she said, looking forward to spending some time alone with her husband.

Exhausted by the strain he’d placed himself under, the Slave King went limp, content to rest in the gentle hold of her magic. Although he’d normally protest being carried about like a child, he was too weak and exhausted to care anymore. Riding on her back, he slumped against her neck, burying his face in the silken locks of her sweet smelling mane.

“Ah, the honeymoon…” Lord Triton said, smiling knowingly at the newlyweds.

When he heard the Lawgiver’s words, the Slave King lifted his head and looked him in the eye. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” he weakly demanded, furious with himself for exposing his weakness to his fellow deity.

“Oh, not much, Slave King,” he replied, giving him an envious look. “I’m happy that your marriage seems to be a happy one, some of us were slightly concerned things between the two of you might’ve broken into conflict.”

“Oh, whatever gave you that idea?” the Slave King sarcastically said, remembering full well Lord Triton’s part in forcing him to wed against his will.

“We remember the first age rather well. Though some of us remember it less fondly than others,” the Lawgiver said with a slight chuckle, imagining the once over Luna must have given her husband to make him as weak as this. “I look forward to our meeting at Bone’s Landing later this week. Until then, Slave King, Princess Luna, enjoy yourselves, and may the law bless your happy union.”

“Thank you, Lawgiver, we shall,” Luna happily said, bowing her head and offering him a serene smile in acknowledgment of his well wishes.

Exiting the throne room with her husband in tow, she giddily walked with a bounce in her step. He desired her after all! The teasing spike of divinity he’d sent coursing through her was proof of that. All the doubts, worries, and fears that had been plaguing her mind for the past two days were finally washed away. Feeling his warmth pressing against her, while listening to the rhythm of his steady breathes, filled her with peace and serenity.

The journey to their room was filled with a silence that misspoke volumes to the married mare. With each hoofstep, she fantasized about how they might idle away the remainder of their afternoon. Even though in his weakened state he was in no condition to fulfill most of them, she was sure she had a few ideas they might find suitable to the task. Happy to finally be able to consummate her marriage to her husband, she thought back to what he’d told her during their first night together.

Nothing you do or say, will ever make me love you, he’d coldly told her, despoiling her expectations of ever knowing love again.

When she’d heard him utter those cruel unfeeling words, a cold fury had raked its claws against her tender heart, causing it to break and making her eyes weep. In that moment of raw emotion, she’d nearly lost any hope for any happiness in their marriage. It was also partly the reason for her earlier behavior. She’d tried her best to hide her hurt, but she’d always worn her emotions on her flanks like a cutie mark. Which is why she was agog and delighted by his sudden turnabout of desire towards her.

Not that she could blame him, he was a stallion after all, and stallions had driving urges and needs. Especially ones filled to the brim and overflowing with the potent magic of creation within them. Honestly, she was surprised he’d managed to hold out for as long as he had, his wounds not withstanding. Truly, her husband must possess a will even stronger than his iron crown.

She felt his hand move against her barrel and smiled, happy that she could finally share her heart with him. Walking through the dark halls of their palace, her heart quickened as she approached their shared quarters. Nervously she bit her lower lip, wondering if her husband would be happy with her. In truth, it had been some time since she’d last been with any stallion, and was concerned she might not measure up to his previous paramours. Stopping in front of the large doors that lead to their marital bed, she stopped.

“Wife?” the Slave King weakly asked, running his fingers through her dark coat. “Is something the matter?”

“Nay, beloved,” she replied, opening the doors with her magic. “We art somewhat disquieted.”

“I see…” he mused, as her magic lifted him off from her back, before gently depositing him on their bed. Giving her a pensive look with his burning eyes, he waited for her to elaborate.

Looking down at her husband she gently smiled, as her turquoise eyes shone with desire. Laying down beside him, she placed her head on his chest. “Husband,” she said, looking into his eyes. “We wish to apologize to thee.”

“Wife, whatever for?” he asked, wondering where she was going with this.

Sitting up, she offered him a look of contrition. “We realize now, twas wrong of us to demand thy affections so,” she said, touching his crown with her horn.

Hearing her apology, the Slave King sighed, feeling slightly ashamed of how he’d been treating her. Even though he was still unwilling to fully trust her, there was no need to be so discourteous towards her. Perhaps given the business with that changeling thief, his initial suspicions towards her were in error. After all for the most part, Luna had proven herself true. Maybe given enough time, he could trust the purity of her intentions.

“Wife,” he said, resting his hand on her shoulder. “All’s forgiven.”

Delighted that he’d so readily accepted her apology, and interpreting his forgiveness as a sign that he was now feeling more amiable towards her, she leaned forward to offer him a kiss.

When he saw what she was trying to do, he narrowed his eyes disapprovingly at her. In an instant, all the good will the Slave King had been feeling towards his wife evaporated into the aether. “Just what do you think you’re trying to do?” he growled, moving as far away from her expectant lips as possible.

Hearing his displeasure at her attempt at showing him affection, Luna laid back her ears with confusion and worry. “Beloved, we thought thou desireth us,” she confessed, hoping to recapture the moment.

When he heard her explanation, he glowered at her, disappointed that her apology hadn’t been without guile. Instead, she’d thought to placate his anger and buy his forgiveness with a few cheap honeyed words.

“Wife, you thought wrong,” he said, looking away from her. “Leave me, I desire to be alone.”

Stung by her husband’s curt rejection, Luna blinked away the tears that were threatening to escape her eyes. “Beloved, if that’s your desire, we shall depart from thee,” she said, turning away in the hopes of hiding her tears and heartbreak from him.

The Slave King said nothing as his wife fled their room in tears. Before leaving, she offered him one last forlorn look. When he saw the pain he’d inflicted on her reflected at him from her reddened eyes, he immediately regretted what he’d spoken in anger. By how familiar he’d allowed himself to be with her, he’d planted in her mind the expectation that he’d desired her. He wanted to reach out to her to apologize, but knew invariably what the end result of such a reconciliation would be, and he possessed little desire for such an outcome. It was never his intention to hurt her like this, but it seemed that no matter what he did, he was destined to bring her to tears.

“Oh, brother, how I wish you were still with me…” he lamented, wishing he possessed the wisdom to extricate himself from the pantheon’s attempt at domesticating him.

But no answer ever came, and he closed his eyes when he realized that he had to find the solution to this problem on his own.

*****

The search for his wayward charge was still ongoing. No matter where he’d looked, she was nowhere to be found. He’d already checked all of her other usual hideouts and haunts and had come up with empty paws. He tapped one of his arcanum clad claws against the broken pavement beneath his paws as he contemplated where to search for her next. Normally he’d not worry about her so much, but given her temperamental nature and her current physical condition, she was in no state to go traipsing about the palace or the broken ruins of the city unescorted.

He’d left her side for only a little while. There had been other matters that he’d needed to tend to. Seeing to his beloved disciple’s effects for one. Now that she’d left the Slave King’s employ, he needed to arrange for a meeting to decide on her replacement with his subordinates, and more importantly decide how to break the news of her departure to his friend.

Although his king no longer considered him a friend, but a servant, he knew better. His friend still needed him, now more than ever. With his friend in such a vulnerable state, and the foul curse still plaguing him, these were dark times indeed. He only hoped that his service might spare his friend any more undue suffering. But as fickle as fate seemed to be these days, there was little guarantee that anyhound would be safe from its treacherous waters.

He wondered how things would unfold under the auspices of the great new bitch his master had wed. His new mistress was known and revered to a small degree by his fellow hounds. Back in the first age, she’d taught Lord Darkpaw the Song of Creation. Singing with him, she showed him how to end his lonely existence, bringing forth the diamond dog clans in the process.

He knew more of her sister Celestia, then she. Which all things considered, was probably true for most. Unlike her sibling, Luna was shrouded in mystery and was a rather obscure member of the Pantheon. Outside the inauguration, he’d only ever met her a pawful of times over the centuries, and now out of the blue she was married to his master the Slave King.

Even though his master had had several mistresses over the centuries, and had borne several pups between them, his master had never seen fit to show any of them much affection. He considered it an enigma how he’d ever managed to become romantically entangled with any of them at all. But considering it was a matter between his master and the gods, he knew trying to understand such was beyond him.

For now, all he needed to worry about was securing Lady Nightmare, and returning her to the safety of his quarters until he secure her better lodgings. Smelling the pavement beneath his paws, he scowled when it turned up another dead end.

“Nightmare, if I wasn’t already dead, you’d be the death of me,” he grumbled, wondering where she could possibly be.

Of everyhound he knew, the marriage of their master to their new mistress probably hit her the hardest. She’d loved their master greatly, and had never approved of his choice in companions. The only time he could ever recall her being truly happy, was whenever she sat beside their master’s throne as he held court. But now that another had usurped what she considered her rightful place, he wondered what sort of trouble this would portend for his master.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw the palace off in the distance. It was the only light that still shone in the dark of the ruined city. For ages he’d plead with his master to let them rebuild the ancient capital, but each time he’d always say, No, let the city be. He could never understand his friend’s reluctance to rebuild, or even abandon it altogether if that was his preference.

When he saw the completed preparations for his master’s wedding, his heart was gladdened. For what must have been the first time in centuries, life had returned to this long dead place. Which was what he hoped would be an omen for the future. For far too long had his friend been mired and looking to the past, rather than being primarily concerned with their immediate future endeavors like he ought. In trying to restore what had been lost, he’d lost sight of important and precious things.

“Little pup, stay safe and be well…” he murmured, wishing that there could have been another way. He knew that until his friend embraced that part of himself which he’d always so fervently denied, that was the only possible outcome for both of them.

Heading deeper into the broken city that might spell doom for lesser creatures, he walked into the shadows without fear. Truly, nothing in this place posed any threat to him. For he was beyond the reach of any in this place, and though he might welcome a return to oblivion, such was not to be. His friend had needed him then, and he had heeded the call to return.

Passing by a crumbling and decaying estate on the city’s edge, he noted that it was in much better shape than the rest of the broken buildings that still stood in the ruins. In the many centuries that he’d lived here, this place always seemed untouched by the decay of neglect and time. He often wondered what it was about this part of the city, which had spared it from the fate of its fellows. Even though the Slave King never struck him as a sentimental hound, the fact that this site still stood was evidence that he felt something for his former home.

Sensing that she wasn’t there, he turned away from the empty house haunted by the past, and continued his search. Walking along the broken pavement, he closed his eyes and could almost imagine the great city thrumming with life once more. Opening his spectral blue eyes, he saw the dark and gloom covering the broken city like a funeral shroud and sighed. Like his friend, he too was seemingly anchored to a past that was destined to never return.

Looking up, he saw the long forgotten entrance to an abandoned gem mine. This was twice that he’d come here in less than the space of week, and all due to the same bitch. Well rather it was an irony that previously she’d been chasing him, and now he was chasing after her. If he failed to locate her within its roughhewn winding warren of passages, he had no idea where she might be hiding at.

Entering the dark mine, the ethereal glow of his spectral body bathed the stone walls with a soft blue light. Walking deeper inside, he heard nothing beyond the soft metallic clinks of his arcanum shod paws amidst the occasional lonely howl of air currents blowing past him. Passing numerous side passages and corridors, his unwavering eyes continued searching for her.

Although feeling fatigue was beyond him how, even he began to grow weary of this endless search. He wanted to return to the palace, so that he could return to his duties. He was close now, he could feel it deep in his bones. The place where he’d returned from the Summerlands to rejoin his lord and master. The place where he reassured his friend that he was no longer alone in the world.

Turning a corner, he saw the tunnel leading to that hallowed place, and hoped that he’d find her there. Looking into the shadowy depths of the tunnel, he was disappointed to discover it empty. In fact, it looked like nohound had stepped paw inside it in ages. Growling in disappointment, he turned around to return the way he’d come, when a soft whimper caught his attention.

Nearly concealed by the dark shadows of the passage, he saw her trembling form. Slowly approaching her, he saw that she looked terrible. Even after she’d completed the ritual that had saved their master’s life, she still possessed the powerful aura she’d always held as long as he’d ever known her. But now it was nowhere to be found. Standing over her, he no longer saw the proud and vicious predator that made even the denizens of the Pit tremble. Instead, before him was a heartbroken and miserable creature, who was too tired to even give him her customary sneer of derision for his treason against their lord.

Patiently he waited for her to speak, to acknowledge his unwelcome intrusion into her personal space. Under normal circumstances, she’d have probably threatened him for discovering her in such a compromising state. But she remained silent, and beyond an occasional apathetic glance at him with her red eyes, she ignored his presence completely.

Concerned by her uncharacteristic behavior, he looked down at her questioningly. “Lady Nightmare?” he asked in a low rumble, not wishing to draw the attention of the dead city’s residents with her in such a helpless state. “Are you all right?”

Minutes passed and she remained silent, either unwilling or unable to answer him. Closing her eyes she tried willing him away with her mind, but when she opened them she saw that he still stood over her. Leave me, she weakly commanded, desperately wishing to wallow alone in her sorrow.

Ignoring her demand, he gently prodded her with his arcanum clad paw. “Lady Nightmare, are you able to stand?” he asked, looking behind him for any signs of the hungry dead.

I’m not going anywhere, she groused, unwilling to cooperate with the one she considered responsible for all her misery.

“Lady Nightmare, you’re returning with me,” he said, using the same tone he used to command some of the younger pups under his command in ‘The Order of the Shadow’. “So either stand up and return under your own power, or I’ll carry you home on my back.”

Not liking his tone, she laid back her ears and curled back her lips, revealing her razor sharp teeth to the fool who thought to speak to her as if she was some lost pup to be chastised for wandering off. Traitor! You dare presume to command me? she accused, staring up into his ethereal blue eyes with all the hate and fury she could muster. Forgetting her sorrow for a moment, she pulled herself up onto her paws, and stood before him trembling as she struggled supporting her own weight. I, who slew half the inhabitants of this city. The silent terror which stalks the shadows. The vengeance of the dark earth. You dare issue orders, let alone show your muzzle unbidden to me?

Unintimidated by her boasts, he stood unflinchingly before her, fully prepared to take the full brunt of her fury before returning her to the palace. “Lady Nightmare, are you ready to return to your bed?” he asked, reaching out a paw to help steady her.

Keep your paws to yourself, traitor! she screamed, losing herself to the roiling emotions that boiled and frothed within her. Returning to the palace and her master was pointless now. He had another that he loved now, and he no longer had any need of her. Looking away from him, she lowered her head in sorrow. I’m never coming back.

Grabbing her muzzle with his paws, he forced her to look him in the eyes. “Nightmare, you are remiss in your duty to our king,” he said, reminding her of the chains of duty that bound them to their master.

She longed to return to his side, to feel his nimble fingers running through her fur as she laid beside him. But when she thought of him passionately kissing that whore, her heart and soul despaired that she’d never know the pleasure of his lips pressed against hers. Seeing her master with another was too painful, and she possessed no means of coping with the distress. Her eyes held no tears, for all she knew was fury, which was a poor balm to one suffering from heartbreak.

He no longer wants me, she mourned, fully convinced that he desired the whore by his side more than herself.

“Would you abandon your duty, abandon him?” he sternly asked, scarcely able to believe such words were coming from her of all creatures. “The Slave King needs us, now more than ever.”

His words cut far deeper than even her claws were capable of. Reeling back from the traitor’s accusations, she deeply inhaled through her nose before exhaling. When she thought of that pony whore using her master however she saw fit, she felt the fires of her rage burn anew.

Scourge, she ordered, issuing her command and unwilling to brook any further delays. I have decided we will return to the palace now. I will allow you to carry me back to make up for taking so long to reach me.

Happy that she’d decided to return with him, he laid down so she could climb onto his back. “As you wish, Lady Nightmare,” Scourge replied, waiting for her to get on top of him. Once she was secured, he began the long trek back to the safety of the palace.

*****

Scourge walked away from his quarters relieved. He’d managed to perform his duty, locating Nightmare before any harm could befall her. Although he was certain, that even in her weakened state she would have proven no easy prey for the undead horrors inhabiting the Diamond Vale. His only remaining task now, was seeking out his master and advising him of Aria’s departure.

That was a conversation he wasn’t looking forward to. Even though the Slave King had never openly shown any of his children affection, he was certain that his friend cared for each of his pups deeply. He’d seen the concern etched into his friend’s muzzle every time one of them went out on a dangerous mission, and he’d seen him pace with worry when he thought nohound else was looking.

His little pup didn’t know her father like he did. If she had… well then she might have better understood. But what was done, was done. There was no use in bemoaning what fate had decreed. His only hope was that his disciple would find her place in the world, and remember that whatever else, he loved her.

“My friend,” he sighed, wishing that whatever evil had poisoned him would be dispelled so they could go back to the way things used to be.

Walking through the familiar twisting passages of the decrepit palace, he passed a black smear staining one of the friezes on the wall. Stopping to examine its scent, he sniffed it twice. It was the Slave King’s dried blood, undoubtedly left behind in haste when he’d tried escaping from his new wife, whom he’d assumed had tried and failed in assassinating him.

Leaving the blood stain frieze behind him, he continued walking towards his master’s quarters. He wondered how long it might be before both Lady Nightmare and their master, would regain their health and vitality. Judging by how her rage had fueled her waning strength, he assumed it might be at least a week before either of them could move about unassisted. Knowing how much the Slave King detested weakness, he thought that he must be in a fury over his inability to care for himself.

He was grateful that there were enough trustworthy members of the court, that could be counted on not to take undue advantage over the situation. Hounds like Nidhogg, Ignatius, Gunhilde, and yes, even the arch duke. Only a week prior, he would have counted himself amongst their number, but after how he’d conducted himself he wasn’t so sure. In order to save his king’s life he’d been forced to betray his friend, something he still felt conflicted over.

For five centuries he’d faithfully served his king in all things. He’d even sacrificed his eternal rest when called upon, but when he’d needed him most, he’d been forced to choose between duty to his king and loyalty to his friend. Even though things had worked out more or less, in the end he’d still betrayed his friend, right when he needed him the most.

Although, like his friend, he no longer possessed a beating heart, it still pained him when he thought of the part he’d played in this sorted business. He remembered what the Slave King had told him at his trial, Though you’ve served me well, I can no longer call you my friend. Those words had cut him deeply, and even though he had been cleared of treason, he’d have preferred being found guilty if it meant he could have kept his friend.

But here he was, still considered the respected and venerable master of ‘The Order of the Shadow’, but yet more alone then he cared to admit. Now with Aria gone, and the Slave King considering him little more than his servant, he suspected he was as much alone in the world as his friend was. He was determined, that even if it took him another five centuries, he would earn back his friend’s trust.

Now nearly at the door to the Slave King’s quarters, he was surprised when he saw his new mistress, Princess Luna storming out of the room. Judging by how furiously she ran down the hall, something must have agitated her greatly. Pressing his spectral muzzle to the ground, he inhaled and caught the scent of saltwater. Ah, she was crying for some reason.

Now it made perfect sense. Something must have transpired between the Slave King and his wife. Although it didn’t surprise him in the slightest. In the past, he’d seen both Lady Zephyr and Lady Suzaku leaving his master’s quarters in similar states. Usually it was over how coldly they considered he’d been treating them. Usually things blew over in a day or two, before they returned to their relatively normal course. Well as normal as a formal agreement for knowledge in exchange for carnal favors might be considered.

Normally he’d have not paid her tears any heed, but she was his mistress now, and her wellbeing was as important to him now as the Slave King’s was. Knowing he would later regret prying into his master’s marriage, he decided to see if there was any comfort he could offer the weeping princess before seeing to the business at paw.

Following her scent through the winding labyrinthine passages of the crumbling palace, he found her weeping as she sat on her haunches in the darkened corner of a long forgotten room. Deciding to allow her the opportunity to release all her tears, he waited patiently outside the room for her to finish crying. How long he stood outside the door he didn’t know, but he was happy to wait as long as was required. When the door finally opened, he stood and respectfully bowed before his mistress.

When she saw that somepony was standing just outside the room she’d spent who knows how long bawling her eyes out, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Now that somepony had discovered her shame, she assumed that before it was time for her to lower the moon, word of her sorrow, and the rejection by her husband would echo from servant to servant until all knew of her heartache and misery. Bitterness filled her soul as thoughts of the palace servants mocking her behind her back consumed her thoughts. Lowering her head in despair, she turned to walk away from the doomhound in search of some hidden place where she could weep in private.

“Mistress, how may I serve you?” Scourge asked, when he saw that she was walking away from him.

“Please, leave us to our sorrow,” she implored, offering him an embittered look. “We hope mocking our pain gives thee and thy cohorts much pleasure.”

Realizing her worry, Scourge bowed to her once more. “Mistress, what you do behind closed doors is nohound’s business but your own,” he said, hoping to assuage her fears. “Should anyhound utter any untoward gossip about you, I’ll see to it that their tongues are silenced.”

Relieved that nopony would know how undignified she’d behaved in her solitude, she lowered her head in gratitude to the doomhound for his providence towards her. “Thanks to thee for thy discretion, sir…” she said, unsure of her benefactor’s identity.

“Mistress, I am Scourge, first of your doomhounds and head of your knights within 'The Order of the Shadow',” he replied, ensuring she knew that he considered himself as much her loyal servant as he was the Slave King’s.

“Ah, Scourge, we remember thee somewhat from our previous marriage to the Slave King,” she mused, recognizing him from all those long past centuries. “We recall thee being our husband’s sworn brother. Our apologies, good sir, thou hast caught us in such a disparaging state.”

“Mistress, forgive me for distressing you,” he said, looking into her reddened eyes. “But I thought you might desire the companionship. My master’s decorum regarding the opposite sex is somewhat lacking.”

Hearing his comforting words, they brought a small smile to her lips. “We must agree with thy prognosis, Ser Scourge,” she agreed, happy to finally have somepony she could confide with in this otherwise dark and dreary place.

“Please, mistress, feel free to call me Scourge,” he said, bowing respectfully before her once more.

“Very well, Scourge,” she said, studying his heavy arcanum armor and translucent blue form. “Though we wonder why thou missed thy master’s and ours wedding feast. We wert advised thou wert counted amongst the most steadfast and stalwart of our husband’s servants.”

“It’s to my great shame that’s no longer the case,” he replied, lowering his head in sorrow, ashamed that his mistress should know his treason. “I recently betrayed the Slave King in the service of the realm. Thus, I can no longer be counted amongst his friends.”

Sensing that he too held the pain of rejection deep within his breast, Luna reached out to the doomhound and touched his armor with her horn. “Scourge,” she solemnly said, forgetting her own aching heart for the moment. “Shoulds’t thou desire, mightst we call thee friend?”

When he heard her offer of friendship, the grieving doomhound felt his heart gladden. It had been pure misery being cast aside by his longtime friend, and hearing her desire for his friendship bound his wounded heart somewhat.

“It would be my pleasure, mistress,” he said, lowering his head and gladly accepting her offer.

When she heard him accept her as his friend, the bitterness over her husband’s rejection of her slowly melted away. It felt nice knowing that at least one pony wished to be her friend, in this otherwise cheerless place.

“Then we art glad to consider thee friend, Scourge,” she said, offering him a gentle smile.

“Mistress, tell me, how may I serve you?” he asked, wishing to be of service and strengthen the newly formed bonds of friendship between them.

“Scourge, thou art our husband’s oldest and dearest friend, art thou not?” she asked, hoping that he might offer some insight into her stallion’s unyielding heart.

“Until I betrayed him, I was, mistress,” Scourge replied, knowing full well what Luna most likely desired to know.

“Then tell us, friend,” Luna implored, looking down the hall from whence she came. “What must we do to earn thy master’s respect?”

When he heard her request, he was surprised. He’d anticipated that she’d have asked him how to win his heart instead, a feat which he felt was most likely impossible to achieve. Although he had no idea how to proceed towards wooing his master, winning his respect was another matter altogether.

“Mistress, my master values forthrightness above all else,” he said, grateful that he could meaningfully serve her.

“Forthrightness you say?” Luna replied, wondering how to best put her hoof forward in showing her husband her sincerity.

“Yes, mistress,” Scourge advised, remembering well how hard the many betrayals his master had endured over the years had wounded him. “Here in the South, honesty and pure intentions are a rare commodity indeed.”

Ruminating on what she knew of the Domain of Earth, it did make sense in a way. The Slave King had spent so much time defending himself against all manner of intrigue and expecting betrayal at every turn, that trusting anypony was probably very difficult for him to do. She thought back to their wedding night, and how he’d passionately kissed her before being struck down by his terrible curse.

The look of betrayal had torn at her heart, when he’d scorned her then. Before, she’d assumed that he’d outright rejected her for his petty own reasons. But now with the information that Scourge had shared with her, and even if she proved her innocence to him regarding what had transpired between them in the Domain of Shadow, she was certain her husband expected her to be like all the rest, a capricious and untrustworthy mare. Especially when it came to matters regarding the Pantheon.

Even though she didn’t have a reputation for intrigue and guile, her sister Celestia was counted amongst those who excelled at such. As her sister, it was easy to assume she had her hoof in most of her schemes as a silent partner. After all, she was the mistress of night, dark, and shadow, and they had the well-deserved reputation for deception and secrecy. But the truth was, she’d never cared much for such things.

To her the night was a stalwart shield. It offered respite and protection from the rigors of the day, allowing everypony a chance to rest, secure in the knowledge she would defend them as they slept. Unfortunately few shared her sentiments, and most decided that the dark and shadows the night held, were to be feared instead of cherished. Even amongst her fellow deities on the Pantheon, such thoughts held sway.

Few ever bothered asking her for aid, seeking out Celestia’s favor instead. If it was because they felt she was either incapable or untrustworthy she wasn’t quite sure, but was almost certain that it was because they felt that her sister had always involved her in her legion of machinations, schemes, and plots. Knowing how wary the Slave King was of her sister, she was certain he felt similarly towards her.

Which was all the more a shame, for she took no joy in courtly intrigue and all its associated serpentine plots. All she’d ever desired was to protect and defend, and in his current condition her husband would find no greater ally or better protector then herself. She was certain that if she could only convince him that she had no greater plan for him than his recovery, and only desired to be his doting wife and stalwart helpmeet, that he would finally accept and love her in return.

Determined that she would alleviate the Slave King’s fears of further betrayal, she looked at her new found friend. “Friend Scourge, woulds’t thou assist us in convincing thy master we art naught but a truthful and guileless mare?”

When he heard Luna’s request, Scourge worriedly furrowed his brow. Such a task would prove most difficult, and currently his friend considered him little more than a servant. He was also worried that by aiding her, he might risk further alienating the Slave King away from himself. But when he saw his mistress’s turquoise eyes looking to him with hope, he knew he couldn’t deny her.

“Mistress, if it pleases you, I will assist you in this,” he said, bowing before her.

“Friend Scourge, we shan’t forget thy service and devotion to us,” Luna replied, happy to finally have an ally in this otherwise unfriendly place. “Dost thou have a suggestion on wherst to begin?”

“My king rightly feels I betrayed him,” Scourge said, lamenting that he would be of limited use to her. “Anything I say or do will be suspect. I suggest seeking others to aid us in your quest.”

“Scourge, thy wisdom is boundless,” Luna said, excited to begin. “Dost thou knowest of anypony who mightst be sympathetic to our cause?”

“Speak with Melody the Yellow,” he said, without a second thought. “I have a feeling she’d readily assist you if you prove your sincerity to her.”

“Ah, our feathered folk daughter,” Luna said, remembering their earlier meeting. “The harper seemed to us during the wedding, quite happy with our marriage to her father.”

“Yes, Melody is seldom seen without wearing a smile,” Scourge agreed, thinking fondly of Aria’s sister.

“Alas and alack,” Luna bemoaned when she remembered that Melody was shortly leaving for the Domain of Air. “Our daughter has been tasked by her father to retrieve Dawson of the Golden Eyrie, to testify against Ambrosia, queen of the changelings.”

“Queen Ambrosia was here…” Scourge murmured, unable to understand why his master would summon her. “It seems I’ve been out of the loop.”

“Our husband felt convinced that she was responsible for the changeling interference at Bone’s Landing, the attempted theft of the Elements of Harmony, and attempted murder of Melody, Gunhilde, Chrysalis, and Dame Squall,” Luna said, explaining the Slave King’s reasons for summoning the changeling queen to his throne.

When he heard all that had transpired in his absence, he felt uneasy. It was telling that the Slave King had failed to inform him of any of this. Normally he’d been his friend’s most trusted adviser. Together they’d circumnavigated around and disarmed more plots over the centuries then he cared to recall. But now, thanks to his betrayal, his friend had chosen to ignore him, and as a result was acting in haste. His only consolation was that so far, he’d managed to handle things well enough on his own.

But now with the attempted murder of Melody and the others, and these Elements of Harmony, the risk to the Slave King had never been greater. “Tell me, mistress, of the Elements of Harmony,” he said, hoping she could shed some light on exactly what they were.

Happy to help, Luna recounted to him all that had occurred earlier that day, and all she knew about the Elements of Harmony. Scourge nodded thoughtfully as she told them of their storied history and how they were thought lost in the first age. When she mentioned that the tears the Slave King had cried in his despair all those centuries ago were the elements reborn, he wondered if there wasn’t some greater power at work behind the scenes.

Deciding that whether or not he wanted his help, his friend needed him. He decided to do what he could to prepare against any further changeling assaults against his lord. “Mistress, when you speak with Melody, send her my way,” he said, wishing to tell her of her sister’s fate before she left on the mission.

Luna nodded once at him, before departing to find Melody. Looking back at the spectral doomhound, she smiled warmly at him. “We thank thee, friend, for everything,” she said, grateful that he’d agreed to assist her. “Our husband is lucky to have such a good friend as thee.”

“You’re too kind, mistress,” Scourge said, turning slightly away from her kind eyes. In truth, all things considered, he still wasn’t sure if agreeing to help her was the best thing to do. But she was his mistress, and just like the Slave King, her happiness mattered to him.

Watching her trot away with a heart full of hope and forgotten tears, he smiled, satisfied with a job well done. Turning to face the way he’d come, he frowned. For his next task wouldn’t nearly be as easy as comforting a mourning and melancholy princess. He wondered how his king would respond when he confronted and presented him with the news that his daughter Aria had finally left them, possibly forever.

Standing in front of the doors leading to the Slave King’s quarters, Scourge felt apprehensive. He didn’t know if his council and presence was still welcomed, or if the Slave King would merely tolerate him instead. Knowing he couldn’t delay this meeting forever, he lifted his paw and softly rapped on the door.

“Come in,” was the muffled reply.

Opening the large door with his paw, he entered the room, and closed the door behind him. In the middle of the spartanly decorated room, the Slave King was resting on his large bed. The lord of Earth glanced at him, before looking away. Scourge hadn’t known what exactly he expected to happen between them, but hadn’t anticipated his master displaying complete indifference towards him.

“What is it that you want?” the Slave King asked, refusing to look at him, choosing to look out at the balcony instead.

“Master, my apologies for missing your court earlier,” he said, hoping to gauge his lord’s temperament.

“That was to be expected, as you weren’t invited to attend,” the Slave King replied, not caring how his words wounded him. “Besides, you were instructed to see to Nightmare’s needs were you not?”

Scourge nodded in agreement at his lord’s mild rebuke. He’d been instructed to look after Nightmare, and had left her side to see him. He took it as a veiled sign of his master’s disapproval of his dereliction of duty. Under other circumstances, he’d have taken the hint and departed, but his business was too urgent to allow it to wait until later.

“Master…” he said, before being interrupted by the Slave King.

“Why have you come to me unbidden?” he coldly asked, leveling an accusing look at his former friend.

Knowing he needed to just go and say it, he took a deep breath. “It’s Aria,” Scourge admitted, wishing there was an easier way to break the news to his master.

“What about her?” the Slave King asked, seemingly uninterested in the slightest regarding her fate.

“She's gone,” Scourge answered, wishing there had been some other way.

“What?” the Slave King asked, not quite sure he’d heard him right.

“She left this morning, maybe forever,” he said, feeling his heart sink as he remembered how she lamented that her father didn’t love her.

“Aria left…” the Slave King said, his voice nearly a whisper. “Did she return to her mother?”

“Truthfully, Slave King, I don’t know her final destination,” he said, hoping that she was well. “She never said.”

Lying alone in his bed, the Slave King tilted his head towards him. He wore a neutral expression which revealed no emotion. “Tell me, Scourge, did she have any words for me before she left?” he asked, resting his hands on his stomach.

Remembering the words she’d uttered in her anger and despair, “I hate you…”, and “Why don’t you love me, father?” Scourge didn’t know if he should burden his master with the knowledge.

“What did she say?” the Slave King reiterated, softly demanding the truth from him.

Knowing he couldn’t hide the truth from him, he decided to answer. “She said she hated you, and asked me why you didn’t love your own daughter,” he regretfully said, wishing that she hadn’t left under such circumstances.

“She hates me…” he weakly said, as the green fire burning in his eyes weakly flickered and threatened to die.

“Master?” Scourge asked, concerned for his friend.

“Little Bleu, do you hate me as well…” he murmured to nohound in particular.

“Shall I get Princess Luna?” Scourge asked, worried that the Slave King was about to relapse to his curse’s thrall.

“Leave me, Scourge,” the Slave King said, shaking his head.

“Very well, Master,” he said, bowing low. “I will return later with the rest of my report.”

Leaving his master’s room, he gave his friend a look of sympathy. Once the door had closed behind him, he sighed as his heart ached for the little pup and for his friend. Before he left, he heard a muffled sob.

“Forgive me, Aria. Please forgive me…”

Author's Note

Thank you gentlereader for reading chapter six of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, as always comments are appreciated.

In the war between the Slave King and his wife, it appears Princess Luna has managed to draw first blood. But don't count the Slave King out just yet. In his cunning he managed to strike back, causing his foe to retreat from the front. But it's almost certain that his opponent will be back with new stratagems and tactics to test his mettle in future battles. Although it's too soon to tell who will emerge victorious in this war, it's sure to be both a long and bloody struggle with plenty of casualties on both sides. We can only guess where the next battle lines will be drawn, and who might win.

With the call of the quest being issued and Dame Squall answering, who knows what adventures await her and her retinue. Will it be simple task to deliver the summons to Dawson, or does fate have something more in store for the servants of the Slave King? Now that Queen Ambrosia has been granted a small reprieve from the Slave King's wrath, how will she spend it? Scrambling in search of evidence to prove her innocence, searching for Bazzt Zzzt, or will she seek vengeance against those who wronged her? Nightmare seemed rather depressed at first, but fortunately Scourge's pep talk seemed to bring back some life into the old girl. Now that she'd got her fire back, we can only wonder what plans she has in store foe both the Slave King and Luna.

Although he considers himself guilty, Scourge seems to have found an ally in his new friend and mistress, Luna. Only time will tell if he'll end up regretting getting involved, or be glad he befriended her. Will these newly minted allies find the absolution and the friend they seek, or are they doomed to fail, forever separated from the one they love. And what's this? It appears that Scourge was right after all, the Slave King did care for Aria. If only he'd been able to tell his daughter before she felt compelled to leave. Hopefully one day he'll have the chance.

Find out the answers to these questions and more, in the next exciting chapter of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, coming soon to computer near you!

Once again, gentlereader, thank you for reading and all your kind words and support. You make writing worthwhile. Until next time!

P.S. My apologies on taking so long, for the latest chapter release. I hope to be more steadfast in my writing in the future.

Chapter 7: The Cold Reality of What Is, and a Dream of What Might Be

The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter

A Story by TalonMach5

Chapter 7: The Cold Reality of What Is, and a Dream of What Might Be

He tossed and turned in his bed. Although he was weary and exhausted, he found himself restless, and he couldn’t quite understand why. Most times he slept like a stone, not so tonight. Tonight all he knew was fitful slumber. Perhaps he was being punished by his wife for spurning her once more, or maybe the news he’d received of his subordinate’s sudden departure was taking its toll on his soul.

Laying somewhere halfway between the Domain of Dreams and the waking world, he thought of what his sister-in-law had told him the week previous. But are you happy… Such a simple question should be easily answerable. By all rights he should be happy, he had everything any man could ever desire, wealth, power, prestige, and if he so desired, a beautiful wife that wanted nothing more then to indulge him with all the carnal delights of the flesh. But he wasn’t happy. Not really.

He missed his friend, and found the current circumstances foisted upon him by the others intolerable. He was weak in body and soul. The married life was a constant struggle, and to make matters worse, the latest news of Aria's hate for him he found painful to bear. Of course this misery was completely artificial and of his own making, for if he truly desired to know happiness once more, the way was still open to him if he possessed a heart of contrition.

But it was so hard! A part of him wanted to swallow his pride, apologize to them for being a stubborn fool, and walk the path of Harmony. But wasn’t he the one who had been wronged and slighted in all this? Was he not the wounded party? Shouldn’t they be the ones to yield, supplicating themselves before him in contrition, begging him for his forgiveness?

He found it infuriating, almost like an itch in his mind he couldn’t quite scratch. Certainly it would be a relief to yield to them, and let them carry the burden that he’d forced himself to bear for so long. He imagined his friend and wife at his side, and found it sorely tempting. But before he could work up the courage to call out to his wife, he found his body had more pressing business that needed to be seen to.

Without a second thought, he pulled off the sheets covering him, sat up, and got up off his bed. Stumbling about in the dark, he walked towards his destination guided by memory and instinct. Reaching a smaller door, he reached out with his right hand and grasped the cool metal doorknob and twisted it. Without a sound, the door opened into a modestly sized room.

Absentmindedly, he sleepily went through the motions of relieving himself of what his body told him was an urgent matter. When his business was completed, he ran his hands under some cool water in a nearby sink. The cold water felt refreshing, and he splashed some of it on his face. Drying off with a nearby towel, he rubbed the sleep out of eyes. Instinctively, he reached out to flip a nearby switch to turn on the lights.

Brightly illuminating the room, the lamp overhead temporarily blinded him. Blinking twice, he looked at his reflection in the mirror for a moment, and reached out with his right hand to open a nearby medicine cabinet to retrieve his electric toothbrush. Still not completely awake, he hummed to himself as vigorously brushed his teeth. Spitting out the toothpaste, he rinsed out his mouth as he reached for his straight razor. Still groggy, he drew in his breath sharply through his teeth when he nicked his right thumb on its sharp edge.

“Ah, damn it!” he softly cursed, running his hand under the running water, as he tried stopping the bleeding. After a minute he withdrew his hand and examined it. Satisfied that the bleeding had stopped, he applied some shaving cream to his morning stubble and began shaving. Examining his reflection in the mirror, he stopped shaving himself midstroke.

Something was very wrong. Where his long and greying beard once was, had been replaced with one neatly trimmed and cut short, close to his face. The large burn that covered a large portion of his face was missing, and his crooked and broken nose was completely straight. He wasn’t missing any teeth, and his eyes were no longer filled with their usual green flames. Slowly putting the razor down on the sink counter, he looked down at his right hand and marveled at what he saw.

Instead of a limb constructed of cold hard arcanum, his arm was warm, pliant, and made of flesh and bone. Looking at his arms he saw he possessed no scars, and the brands on his shoulders were completely missing. Confused and unsure of why any of this was happening, he washed off his face and returned the razor to its proper place. Examining his surroundings for the first time, he found himself in a contemporary bathroom, something he’d not seen in ages.

Deciding he needed to further explore this strangely familiar yet foreign place. He turned off the light and exited the bathroom. He saw the room and the unfamiliar bed that he’d woken up in, and heard someone softly snoring on the other side. Deciding he didn’t want to wake up whoever it was, he quietly exited the room in his search for answers.

Walking through the large strange house that he’d found himself in, he approached the front door. Opening it, he was amused when he discovered a newspaper waiting for him bearing the image of a blue owl as part of its logo. Bending down, he picked it up with the intentions of finding out exactly where he was. But before he could read the contents of the paper, he found himself beset by hunger, something he was unaccustomed to experiencing.

True, he’d eaten some food earlier at his wife’s insistence, but that had only been because he’d chosen to indulge her, not because he’d been suffering from hunger. It had been ages since he’d last felt such a pressing need to eat. Deciding he’d know no peace until he sated his hunger, he headed towards what he assumed was the kitchen and looked for any available foodstuffs. Opening a refrigerator, he smiled at what he discovered inside, eggs and bacon.

Checking a nearby cupboard he saw a box of pancake mix and syrup, and decided, Well I suppose, when in Rome.

Rooting through the cupboards and locating a pan, he went to work making a breakfast fit for royalty. As he worked he even found some oranges, and decided to go all out and make some fresh squeezed orange juice. Spying a nearby wall mounted television, he turned it on out of habit and listened to an unfamiliar morning show as he prepared his meal. Even though he felt famished, when his meal preparations were complete, he was surprised by the amount of food that he’d ended up preparing. It was more than he thought he could possibly eat. In fact, it was a meal fit for two.

Before he could decide what to do with all the extra food, he felt a pair of slender arms wrapping around his chest, as their decidedly feminine owner pressed herself against him.

“It smells delicious,” she sighed, snuggling up against him.

“Uh…” he replied, unsure how to react.

He’d been caught by the owner, and instead of meeting him with suspicion and fury for his trespass, she was intimately embracing him like a lover. He wasn’t quite sure what to do, he only had limited information about this strange place, and since this stranger thought he was somebody they knew, he decided to follow his stomach and play along for now.

“Ah, yes…” he said, playing things by ear. “I thought some breakfast was in order.”

“Oh, how thoughtful of you,” she cooed into his ear, before gently kissing his cheek. “Let me go set the table.”

He felt her hugging him once more before letting go. He felt slightly empty when he could no longer feel her pressing against him. Sighing to himself, he carried the food to a nearby table. Something about her seemed alien, yet at the same time so familiar.

“Here,” he heard her say, handing him a plate.

“Thanks,” he murmured, trying to place where he’d heard her voice before.

Sitting down to eat, he looked up and saw her approaching the table with her face buried in the paper. Curious about his host, he absentmindedly chewed on a piece of bacon as he watched her reading the news.

Flipping through the paper, her feet lightly tapped against the table leg, as she softly hummed to herself. “I can’t believe last night’s game, can you?” she asked from behind the paper.

“The game?” he asked, unsure of what game she was referring to.

“Yes, the Wondercolts went 57-38,” she replied, placing the paper down. When she saw the bacon her eyes lit up with hunger and quickly grabbed several pieces for herself. “Cel owes me ten bits.”

When he saw her he was stunned, sitting before him was a very beautiful woman, well as beautiful as one could look after having just woken up. When she saw him staring at her, she smiled at him. Looking into large turquoise eyes, he saw a familiar mischievous sparkle. But what stood out to him the most was her fair skin and luxurious hair. They were both different shades of blue!

“Luna?” he asked, not quite sure why she wasn’t an alicorn anymore.

“Yes, beloved?” she absentmindedly replied, pouring a bit of syrup on her pancakes as she resumed reading the news.

“You’re, you’re blue…” he slowly said, wondering why she was human, but still retained the familiar coloration of her pony incarnation.

“Did you just notice that now, love?” she said with demure smile, placing her smaller hand on his, and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I hope that’s not an issue, because you certainly weren’t complaining last night.”

Looking down he noticed she was wearing a wedding band around her left ring finger. Inspecting his own hand, he saw that he was wearing its mate around his own. Looking at the television hanging on the wall, he was surprised that the co-anchors of the morning show and their guests were all different shades as well. Looking at the paper’s front page, he saw even more people in a veritable rainbow of colors.

Even more confused than before, he returned to his meal in silence. Wherever he was, its similarity to his homeland was strangely familiar yet completely alien at the same time.

“Is there something on your mind, dear heart?” she asked, her voice carrying a hint of concern.

“Ah, no, wife,” he replied, taking a small sip from his juice.

“Wife?” she said, giving him a look of mock indignation. “Husband, there’s no need to be so formal.”

“I suppose not,” he said, eating a forkful of his omelet.

“Can you believe it’s already been three years?” she asked, placing her hand atop his.

“Three years, I suppose that’s certainly a grand achievement,” he said in between bites of his pancakes. Suddenly he heard her placing her fork on her plate, and felt her eyes boring into his skull.

“Honey, do you know what day it is?” she slowly asked, tapping her finger against the table as she waited for his answer.

“The third year anniversary,” he said, trying his best to improvise.

“Of what?” she countered, staring at him intently.

Oh, damn, he thought to himself, trying to decide how best to respond. Although he had a pretty good idea what the anniversary might be, he didn’t want to say the wrong thing and cause himself trouble later on. What was it with women and anniversaries? Beyond his annual inauguration, which was held at the insistence of his followers, he’d never bothered celebrating anything if he could help it.

Deciding he needed to buy himself some time, he tried evading her question. “I can’t say, Luna, because that would spoil the surprise,” he said, placing his free hand on top of hers.

Waiting for a response, he was relieved when she warmly smiled at him, seemingly placated by his answer. “Oh, darling, I knew you wouldn’t forget it!” she said, slowly withdrawing her had from his and returned to her breakfast. Looking towards a clock on the wall, her eyes widened. “Oh dear, it’s getting late. The car will be arriving here shortly. If you don’t get ready soon, you’re going to be late for work.”

“Work?” he replied, not relishing the idea of working for another. He’d been the undisputed master over his domain for so long, that the idea of serving under another was anathema to him.

“That’s right, Mr. CEO,” she said with a teasing grin. “You have to justify that overinflated salary of yours somehow.”

“CEO?” he mused, trying hard to remember what the acronym meant. Some sort of feudal lord or merchant king perhaps. It had been ages since he’d given the world of his birth much thought, and now he was on unsure footing trying to reacquaint himself with this strange realm.

Seeing how unsure her husband seemed to be, Luna offered him a reassuring smile. “Beloved, something at the office got you down?” she asked, taking their plates to the sink. “Just be glad you don’t have my job. Sure you’re responsible for millions of bits and thousands of employees, but try dealing with teenagers sometime.”

Hearing her discuss adolescents, made him think of Aria and the others, and how much he would miss them. True, he never showed them any signs of outwardly affection, but he’d come to rely on each of them in running his domain. Without Harmony always griping at him and making sure he was following her carefully planned out itinerary, he was sure he’d always be running late. Melody and her music always brought him a small measure of peace, and her talent at disarming even the most obnoxious of supplicants with her charm, had always been an appreciated skill. Then there was Aria. Together with Scourge, she’d brought him many victories over the years. The thought that he’d never see any of them ever again, brought a pain to his heart that he thought he’d never know for any but his long lost Little Bleu.

Getting up from his chair he shook his head. “I’m sorry I’m not all here today,” he apologized, wishing he could see them at least once more.

“It’s alright, love,” she said, lightly kissing him. “Since you’re running behind, you can have the shower first. I’ll leave your suit out for you.”

“Thank you,” he said, feeling conflicted about these feelings he’d just discovered within himself.

Walking down the hallway towards their bedroom, he entered and laid down on the bed. Closing his eyes, he intended only to rest for a few minutes before getting ready to go to wherever he was the CEO of.

“Beloved?” he heard Luna call out to him.

“Sorry…” he replied, yawning once. “I was just resting my eyes for a moment. I’ll go take my shower now.”

“Beloved, of what shower dost thou speaketh?” she replied, her confusion at what he’d said evident in her voice. “We knowest not, thou hast pressed pegasi enough under the yoke of thy bondage, to manage the weather within thy domain.”

“What?” the Slave King said, opening his eyes in surprise. All around him were the ever familiar surroundings of his sparsely furnished room. Looking down he saw his arm had returned to its formerly cold arcanum state, his greying beard was back to its proper length, the brands on his shoulders mocking his wife’s cutie mark had returned, and he was decidedly once more a magically infused deity.

Trying to lift himself off the bed, he found himself unable to do much more than move his head and slightly lift his arms. Which he found a comfort. Even though he hated being weak and vulnerable like this, this place and his condition were familiar to him. After having spent centuries as an immortal creature, he didn’t think he could stand being mortal once more.

Closing his eyes he imagined what sort of life he lived in that other world. Where he was a CEO and his wife was blue. Reflecting on what had transpired there, he found himself slightly envious of the man whose life he’d borrowed for a small time. He was fairly certain that man never had to worry about the duplicitous members of the Pantheon, or that his wife had possibly tried murdering him.

Thinking of the Luna he’d gotten to know there, he felt regret that he’d left her so soon. It was obvious that she cared for him deeply, and she was certainly easy on the eyes. Had circumstances been any different he might have been tempted to try experiencing the full benefits of the married life with her. But dwelling on a dream no matter how pleasant, did him little good. The reality of his situation was that he was married to a scheming goddess, and he needed to learn to live with it.

He looked at Luna and watched as she attended to her duties constructing the nighttime sky. He remembered the first time he watched her work, and marveled at its magnificence. Watching her weave the stars in the heavens, he felt a small sliver of pride when he saw the constellation that she’d bequeathed to him appear like a sparkling wreath of gems around the moon.

She’d called it his crown, and it was entirely his. A symbol of the love she claimed she held for him. Looking at her lithe and graceful form, it would be easy to simply accept her words at face value. They could sit together and reenact what he’d just experienced in that dream he’d woken up from. It was sorely tempting, all he had to do was call out to her, and offer up a few words laced with affection, and it could all be his. But the possibility that this was all a ruse to get him to drop his guard again, was ever on his mind. In the end he decided it was far better to be alone, then suffer the consequences of another heart wrenching betrayal.

“Magnificent as always, wife,” he said, complimenting her expert skill at arranging the heavens.

Hearing his compliment, she looked away slightly and blushed as she tried hiding behind her long flowing mane. “Hearing thy honest words, flatters us, dear husband,” she said approaching him. “Dost thou desireth us to carry thee elsewhere within thy domain?”

“Yes, wife, I believe so,” he replied, nodding to her. “I think I’ve kept Ignatius waiting for long enough. Take me to the manufactorium.”

Picking him up with her magic, she gently placed him on her back, and moved towards the door. As she carried him, his thoughts returned to the dream. Pressing his face into her mane, he imagined himself embracing the woman he’d briefly met and shared breakfast with. He felt her heartbeat, and wondered if the he from that world knew how lucky he truly was. But no answer ever came, and he sighed as he resigned himself to his lot.

*****

The filly screamed as he flicked the whip he held aloft with his powerful magic at her flanks, leaving welts and even breaking the skin in some places. Although he was king, and ruled here with an iron hoof over these unworthy plebs, this is what he missed most about the South. Lording over his inferiors, and meting out the appropriate discipline for their failure to remember their proper place under his hooves. He hadn’t even given the foal the customary dozen lashes to break her in yet, and already she was bawling her eyes out. Her screams and tears were delicious to him. It was good to be king.

“Please, stop,” the filly whimpered, as she trembled at the sight of the whip floating menacingly above her. “I want my daddy!”

When he heard her crying out for her father, he smiled. The foal had done exactly as he wanted her to, and he hadn’t even needed to coax her. Not that he would have minded giving her an incentive. After all, sometimes they needed the proper encouragement, before they could be expected to perform. He was a pony person after all, and if those under his tender ministrations needed the extra care and attention, he was only too happy to oblige.

With another sharp crack of the whip for good measure, he was rewarded with a shrill scream of pain. Looking down at the filly, he noted that though her lime green coat was covered with angry red welts and dark purple bruises, she was still in relatively excellent condition. The signature of an expert taskmaster in the art of torture and pain. Truly the whip was his brush and her sullied flesh the canvas of his magnificent art.

The poor frightened filly trembled with fear as the unicorn with a coat dark as coal and a mane like pitch, leered at her with his fierce red eyes. Towering over her, her yellow eyes shrank in fear when she saw his hateful whip coming ever closer to her.

“There, there, child,” he said, gently petting her curly white mane with his hoof.

Confused by his behavior, she struggled in vain against his vice like grip. Unable to escape the monster’s hold, she began weeping in fear and despair. “Why…” she stuttered through her tears and sobs.

“Your daddy made me do it,” he said, petting her mane once more.

“That’s not true!” the filly cried out, furious that this beast had the gall to blame her father for his own wicked depravity.

“Are you calling me a liar?” he demanded, holding the whip over her head, threatening retribution.

Afraid of feeling its bite once more, she shivered, and fervently shook her head. “No, no…” she stammered, feeling her heart race in her chest.

“Then why am I being forced to beat you?” he countered, holding the whip aloft for to see.

The filly, unwilling to betray her father, shook her head, unwilling to say the words the heartless beast expected her to.

Furious at her for her defiance, he threw her to the hard crystal floor of the dungeon and began striking her with the butt of the whip. “Tell me… Who’s making me… Do this!” he roared between blows.

Screaming in pain, and choking back sobs, she cried out. “Daddy is! Daddy’s making you!” she shouted, desperate to make him stop hurting her.

Satisfied at her compliance, he offered her a small taste of the draught from his flask. “See, child, that wasn’t so bad now was it?” he asked, in a low and soothing voice.

Completely healed from her physical wounds, but still wounded in spirit, the foal lowered her head in shame. She’d said those hateful words against her father, and felt ashamed of herself. Sitting down on her haunches, she cried with teary despair.

“Your daddy must have hated you so much, to make me do this to you, didn’t he?” he asked, coaxing her to agree with him.

She wanted to shake her head no, but when she saw his whip at the ready, her fear broke her and she slowly nodded in agreement.

Pleased by her rapid progress, he decided to move on to phase two. “He deserves to be punished for being such a mean cruel father doesn’t he?” he suggested, directing her to follow him.

The filly looked up at her tormentor, unsure what he meant.

When he saw that she was stubbornly refusing to follow him, he glared at her with his angry red eyes. “Follow,” he sharply said, suggesting she’d follow him out of the cell if she knew what was good for her.

“Ye… yes, sir,” she murmured, following after him.

“Your father deserves to be punished for this doesn’t he?” he repeated, staring into her golden eyes.

Afraid of contradicting him, the tiny filly shook her head in agreement.

“I’m glad you feel that way,” he said, stopping in front of another cell. “Prisoner eighteen, I brought somepony here to see you.”

Using his magic, the cruel unicorn opened the cell and directed the foal to follow him inside.

Walking inside, the filly’s eyes went wide with relief when she saw her father standing inside. “Daddy!” she cried out, running towards him, and hugging him in a teary embrace. “I was so scared!”

“Child,” the unicorn said, wearing a placid smile. “Confront him for his crimes.”

The filly hid behind her father’s legs, desperate for somepony, anypony to defend her from that hateful monster. When he didn’t respond, she looked up into his eyes. He looked like a broken stallion to her, with wide haunted eyes.

“Ask him who made me beat you,” he instructed, growing weary of her reluctance.

Eager to exonerate her father, and prove that he would never do such a horrible thing to anypony least of all her, she looked up at him with hope shining in her eyes. “Daddy, he said you made him hurt me. Tell him he’s lying,” she confidently asked, the faith she held in her father being as strong as arcanum.

“I told him to hurt you,” prisoner eighteen said, looking away from his daughter in shame.

“But why, daddy?” she implored, desperate to know why he would do such a horrid thing.”

“I hate you,” came his reply.

“That’s not true!” the filly cried out, stepping away from him.

“See, child, didn’t I tell you the truth?” the unicorn asked, petting her mane once more. “Come, we need to return you to your cell, so we can get back to work.”

When she heard him calmly telling her to return to her cell, and shaking the whip he held at the ready, she shivered with terror. “No…” she said, shaking in her hooves, afraid to return to her cell and feel the bite of the lash once more.

“Well, child,” he said, offering her a sympathetic smile. “It appears we have a small problem. Your father insisted I beat you. If not you, then who should I punish?”

She saw him looking towards her father. In front of her was the whip. She saw the unicorn looking towards her him and knew what he was suggesting. “You mean beat my daddy instead?” she asked, wondering if that’s what he’d meant.

“If that’s what you want,” he replied, offering her the whip. “In fact, I’ll even let you administer the lashes.”

Taking the whip in her mouth, she looked at the unicorn and briefly thought of using it against him. When he saw what she was thinking, the unicorn gave her a small chuckle.

“Sorry, child, the whip refuses to strike its master,” he said, taking delight in dashing her hopes of escaping with the prisoner. “But if you prefer we can continue administering your blows instead.”

“No!” she cried out, afraid of feeling the sting of the lash again.

“Then let’s begin,” he cheerfully said, showing her how the magical whip worked.

Flicking the whip once, he showed her how control its subtle movements. Once he was satisfied that she could operate the whip unaided, he directed her to her waiting father.

“Now show me what you’ve learned,” he instructed, standing at her side.

With a jerk of her mouth, she clumsily flicked the whip forward, causing her father to scream in pain when it struck him.

“Very good, child,” he said, inspecting her hooftiwork. Running his hoof along the flesh where the blow had landed, he studied the bleeding welt with a critical eye. “You need to be a tad less forceful. Or else you’ll start tearing the flesh rather than bruising it. Once again.”

Once more the filly struck her father, eliciting another scream. While the unicorn showed her how to improve and refine her crude technique. Soon the tiny filly was cracking the whip against her father with all the skill of an apprenticed Neo Vale taskmaster.

Pleased with her progress, the unicorn offered her a smile. “I think that’s enough for now,” he said, directing her to follow him out of the cell. “We’ll resume your lashings tomorrow.”

“What!” the filly cried out, afraid to feel the whip once more. “Please not that. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” he asked, offering her a sly smile and looking towards her father’s cell. “Give him a dozen lashes unsupervised, and you needn’t worry about tomorrow’s beating.”

Happy for the chance to get away from the monster, and ask her father why he’d said that he hated her for herself, she approached his cell.

Before she could leave, the unicorn placed his hoof on her shoulder. “Remember, a proper taskmaster lets their whip do the talking for them,” he said, offering her a stern warning. “Speaking otherwise with the prisoner, will show me you’re not taking your instruction seriously. Do not disappoint me.”

Realizing he expected her to administer the twelve lashes in silence. The filly nodded in understanding, and entered her father’s cell alone. She saw him standing there exhausted and bleeding. Looking into her eyes, she saw him giving her a hollow and empty look of defeat. Knowing that if she wanted to be spared from further harm that she had to whip her father, she began administering his beating.

The unicorn watched the filly enter the cell, and waited for the telltale screams. Moments later he heard the first of many. Witnessing the child’s transformation from a timid filly into a cruel monster was a delight. Turning loved ones against the traitors, and using them to exact his pound of flesh was a stroke of genius. He was well on the way to breaking each of the rebels beyond repair, and at the same time training the taskmasters he’d entrust to help oversee his budding empire.

He chuckled at how easy this had been. All he had to do was beat the fools into submission, heal their wounds with the draught, and threaten their loved ones with death if they didn’t parrot the words he’d instructed them to say. Usually after only a few sessions, the foals and lovers of those who had so foolishly rebelled against him, were beating them with relish and gusto. Once they had finally succumbed to their fear of the lash, and were readily beating their family and loved ones, the magical recordings he’d made of them doing so insured they hoofed the line, and ensured their further loyalty to him.

He only needed a few more weeks he thought, and his hold over them would be complete. His taskmasters would gladly serve him, first out of fear and shame over having their betrayal being discovered by anypony, and shortly afterward for the promises of power their service offered them. As for the rebels, he’d return them to the join their fellow plebs in chains, working the crystal mines until they day they died. He was sure the tales they would tell to the rest of their imprisonment here, would spread like wildfire among the rest of the plebs, and soon nopony would dare rebel or contest against his rule ever again.

The sound of silence greeted his ears. Ah, she must be done, he thought. In truth, he hadn’t even been counting the number of screams. When he saw the filly exiting the cell, he offered her a pleasant smile. “Did you administer a full dozen lashes?”

“Ye… yes, sir,” she sniffed, conflicted over what she’d just done to her father.

“Good,” he said, taking the whip away from her. Looking at her for a moment, he knelt down so he could look her in the eye. “Did you speak to the prisoner at all?”

“No,” she replied, wiping away a tear. “I let the whip do all the talking.”

“I’m so proud of you, child,” he said, securing the cell. “In fact, you did so well. I’m going to reward you with a warm bed and hot meal. How does that sound?”

The filly’s stomach rumbled at the thought, but she had no appetite.

When she didn’t respond, he shook the whip at her. “Of course if you prefer, child,” he said wearing a macabre smile. “I’ll be happy to place back in your cell and offer you a full course of the lash.”

“No, no, I’ll eat,” she said, wishing she could curl up into a ball and die.

“Good, I’m so glad we’ve become such fast friends,” the unicorn replied with a dark chuckle.

Delighted by how easily he’d manipulated her, the wicked unicorn released a dark chuckle. This filly had all the markings of somepony he could properly mold into somepony useful. Depending on how well she took to her reeducation, perhaps she might even become his protégé. Given a few years, and judging by how she looked now, she might even be a suitable replacement once his royal consort, Topaz had become too long in the tooth to serve him properly in his bed.

Envisioning what the filly might look like as a full grown mare, he smiled to himself and thought, It’s good to be king.

*****

Sombra climbed up the stairs that led to his personal quarters. It had been such an exhausting and stressful day, and he looked forward to letting lose a little steam. As king of the crystal dominion, he could have any mare in the realm he desired. But he was a genteel stallion, and his eclectic tastes lead themselves to a more refined pallet. Namely, he liked his mares to be from the top echelons of society, and broken in by his unique training regimen.

Amongst the crystal ponies, none were more suitable for his appetites than his consort Topaz. She’d been his predecessor, and before being replaced by him had ruled over his subjects in the Slave King’s name. At first she’d resisted his charms and courtly graces, but soon saw the light, and now willingly prostrated herself before her master. There was just something decadent in humbling somepony so powerful and making them your plaything.

Of course there were rocky patches, what relationship didn’t have those? But he’d managed to smooth things over between them, and now everything was as it should be. He was ruling over his domain as its rightful king, teaching his subjects the proper way to serve him, and his once overly proud consort was tending to his needs like a proper mare whenever he wanted. What more might a stallion desire? He had it all, and it was good to be king.

Spying her waiting for him on the bed, he looked at her as she seductively swished her tail. Oh this was new! Had she finally accepted her place beneath him, and wanted to take a more active role in servicing him? Slowly, he approached her and instructed her to lay on her back, fully exposing herself to him. When she complied, he leered at what he saw, and wickedly grinned in anticipation of what was to come.

Climbing on top of his waiting consort, he pressed against her, enjoying the feeling of the silken softness of her coat against him. He was tempted to dive right into the main event, but wanted to enjoy himself for a bit first.

“Who’s your master?” he demanded, nipping her neck.

Licking her lips, she kissed his muzzle. “The same as yours, Sombra,” she said, offering him a smirk.

Leaping off her and falling off the bed, he backpedaled away from the imposter posing as his consort. “How dare you enter my private quarters,” he stammered, deathly afraid for his safety for the first time since he claimed the throne for himself.

Topaz twisted her neck and looked down at him with amusement. “But, Sombra, don’t you want to finish what you started?” she asked, blowing him a kiss and laughing at him for his cowardice. “What’s wrong, the little stallion downstairs afraid to leave the stable?”

Standing up on the bed, she leapt down on top of Sombra, and brought her muzzle towards his. “I am mare, hear me whinny,” she laughed, giving him an evil look. When he didn’t answer, she looked down at him and derisively snorted. “Since you’re content to leave a mare wanting, I guess we’ll have to get down to business.”

Walking towards a wardrobe, the Topaz double pulled out a large polished black gem inscribed with all manner of runes. “The shadow stone you left behind, Sombra,” she sneered. “Second sends you his regards.”

“Bazzt Zzzt,” Sombra growled, finally realizing who it was and disgusted with himself for what he’d almost done with the changeling assassin.

“Inz ze fleshz,” the changeling replied, dropping his disguise and giving him a slight bow. “Nowz youze tellz meeze whatz youze beenz doingz.”

Worried that Topaz had already spilled the beans to Bazzt Zzzt, Sombra looked for something he could use to bludgeon in the head of his unwelcome guest. “So what did you end up doing with Topaz then?” he asked, hoping to distract him.

“Youze marez stuckz inz ze clozetz,” he replied, gesturing towards one of the room’s large wardrobes.

Looking around the room he saw the perfect thing to use against this meddlesome bug. Nearly forgotten in the corner was Topaz’s old scepter. It was primarily made of crystal and arcanum, and studded with a few diamonds and emeralds. Attempting to pick it up with his magic, he struggled against the uncooperative arcanum that twisted and winded around the scepter’s crystal shaft.

“Is she unharmed?” Sombra asked, levitating the heavy scepter behind the changeling.

“Yez, shez finez,” Bazzt Zzzt replied, moving aside some clothing that hung inside the wardrobe, revealing an unmoving and unconscious Topaz.

Sensing what Sombra was up to, he angrily buzzed before bucking him in the muzzle. With a cry, the unicorn reeled back from the blow, releasing the scepter from his magic’s hold. Free of his magic, the scepter fell to the ground, hitting Bazzt Zzzt’s right flank.

“Owz!” Bazzt Zzzt yelped, glaring furiously at him. “Zombraz, youze gunz toz payz forz zatz!”

Gingerly rubbing his muzzle, Sombra glared at his opponent. He’d not come all this way to be stopped by a mere changeling. “Bug,” he growled, drawing magic into his horn as he prepared to attack. “You’re dead.”

“Stop this at once you idiots!” roared a furious voice.

When he heard the voice, Sombra froze with fear. It was none other than Second himself! Slowly backing from Bazzt Zzzt, he turned to face his master. “Second, I can explain,” he stammered, trying to escape the doomhound’s fury.

Seeing his terror, Bazzt Zzzt sneered. “Youze arze zuch za cowardz!” he said, wearing his contempt for the self-styled king of the crystal ponies plainly on his face. “Havez zomez pridez.”

Sombra ignored his taunt, the changeling didn’t know Second and the great master like he did. Those who crossed the doomhound were quickly disposed of. His vengeance came like death’s passing, quietly and without notice. Only the ignorant or foolhardy ever incurred his wrath.

Turning to the shadow stone, he bowed before his master’s flickering image. “Master Second, I assumed that the changeling had served his purpose in bringing me the stone,” he said, hoping that he bought the lie.

Second said nothing for a moment, before glancing towards the changeling who he was determined to eventually deal with sometime in the foreseeable future. Had his subordinate actually managed to rid him of the troublesome bug, he’d not have shed any tears. But now that he was personally serving the unmentionable one, he couldn’t just eliminate him without due cause.

“Sombra,” Second said, giving the unicorn a hard look. “Bazzt Zzzt is here to ensure there are no unforeseen issues with the transition of your rule.”

Sombra inwardly seethed. He’d hoped that he’d be free from Second’s ever watchful eye here in the far north. However, even as the undisputed king over the crystal ponies, he was still stuck playing second fiddle to his doomhound master. Although he was safe from any immediate retribution up here in the north, he was sure Second had some hidden leverage over him. Perhaps the Slave King might be interested in knowing who the doomhound truly served.

Seeing his subordinate’s mixed feelings about his supervision, Second decided to remind him who he was actually serving. “Sombra,” he said, running his tongue over his fangs. “If you find this arrangement disagreeable, perhaps we can discuss it together with the Slave King. I’m sure he’d like to hear Topaz III’s opinion of your rule so far.”

When he heard the veiled threat, his blood ran cold. The Slave King had given him only one command regarding his position over the crystal ponies, Your mark now grants you authority over the crystal ponies. Follow the arrangements I have with them to the letter. Abuse them, and you’ll share Arch Duke Fifi le Yipyap’s fate. If the Slave King ever discovered how he’d been abusing his power, he imagined that he would meet with a swift and ignominious end.

“No, Master Second,” he said, looking away from him. “That won’t be necessary.”

Satisfied that he’d nipped any thoughts that Sombra might’ve had about going independent, Second decided to ensure the king of the crystal ponies knew the part he was expected to play in the master’s great scheme. “Sombra,” he said, tapping his claw against the ground before resting it against his muzzle. “Tell me, have you made a wise use of your time so far?”

“Yes, Second,” he replied, knowing that for now he’d have to play along if he wanted to preserve his position. “I’ve got ponies working around the clock, expanding the crystal mining operation.”

“Enough to triple the mine’s output?” Second asked, probing his subordinate’s dedication to his assigned task.”

“Well, not exactly…” Sombra replied, slightly flinching away from his master’s flickering image.

“How not exactly?” Second rumbled, visibly displeased by Sombra’s lack of progress.

“There’s been some setbacks,” he admitted, wishing he’d managed to slay the changeling spy before his master had intervened.

“I wonder if we made a mistake in trusting you to oversee this operation,” Second said, momentarily glancing at Bazzt Zzzt before resting his gaze on Sombra.

Knowing exactly where this was headed, the king of the crystal dominion puffed out his chest and stamped his hoof. “The mines will be at full capacity just as planned,” he said, annoyed that his abilities were in doubt.

The doomhound gave him a cool placid look. “The master expects this task to be completed, unhindered by your incompetence,” he said, glowering darkly at the unicorn. “Sombra, so far you’ve disappointed me.”

“It’s not my fault!” Sombra shouted, concerned that he’d soon have more than just rebellious crystal ponies to worry about. “It’s not even been two weeks yet. How can you expect the impossible?”

“The Grand Galloping Gala will be in a month, I’ll expect you to have the full allotment of crystals ready then,” he said, fully enjoying his frustration. “Sombra, if there’s any more unexpected delays, Bazzt Zzzt will let me know.”

“I need more time,” Sombra plead, cursing his master for giving him such a monumental task and so little time to complete it. “I’m still stamping out small pockets of rebellion among some of my more stubborn subjects. Besides what does it matter, we’re stockpiling the crystals anyways. If I miss the deadline, we could always speed up crystal extraction when things have stabilized.”

“Save your excuses for somehound else, Sombra,” Second said, giving him a dark look. “If you’re not confident in your ability to meet the deadline, I’m sure Bazzt Zzzt could be persuaded to take over the operation if you’re incapable of fulfilling your duty.”

“Yeaz, Iz couldz,” Bazzt Zzzt agreed, changing into Sombra’s mirror image. “Will that be necessary?”

“No, master,” Sombra said, feeling his mouth go dry, and knowing exactly how the changeling would go about replacing him. “I’ll have the shipment ready when expected.”

“Good,” Second said, offering his subordinate a cruel grin. “I’m pleased to hear you say that. It’s a relief to know that we can count on you to get the job done.”

“Yes, master, is there anything else?” he said, bowing low to the doomhound in defeat.

“No, Sombra, that was all,” he said, pleased that his subordinate would be too busy overseeing the mining operation to do much else. “I look forward to hearing your progress report in two weeks.”

When his master’s image broke apart and faded away, Sombra snorted through his nose with a fury. How dare him! If he wasn’t so certain that the Slave King would enact some terrible retribution upon him for his part in the conspiracy against him, he’d have returned to his throne straight away. The more he thought about it, the more he knew he’d been setup to fail from the beginning.

If he ever returned to the Diamond Vale unbidden, there was a standing order among the doomhounds to slay him. Even though he wasn’t repentant regarding how he’d been treating the crystal ponies, his behavior here had ensured that he couldn’t trust anypony to speak to the Slave King on his behalf, without also suffering a swift reprisal for his cruelty to his subjects. His heart sank when he realized he’d been played for a fool. It had all been a trick to force him to blindly obey.

If only he had seen it before being caught in its snare, he might’ve been able to mitigate things to his favor. Now having made enemies of everypony within the domain, and with the changeling watching over his every movement, he had no choice but to blindly follow after Second’s commands. He’d once thought that having power and ruling over others would be wonderful, but because he’d missed the forest for the trees, he was as much a slave and as powerless as those he was supposedly lording over. Even though following Second’s insane timetable would cause much hardship and mass disruption throughout the crystal domain, his hooves were tied. Now his only hope was pressing forward, he had no other choice.

Bazzt Zzzt saw his consternation and smirked. “Not so high and mighty now are you, King Sombra?” he mocked, laughing at his predicament.

“Get out of my palace!” he snarled, furious that the changeling could mock him with impunity, and there was nothing he could do against him.

“As you wish, oh great and powerful King Sombra,” Bazzt Zzzt said, bowing low and laughing even harder. Entering the shadows, he began melting away as his laughter followed after him. “Remember we’ll be watching you…”

As soon as the changeling had disappeared from his sight, Sombra powered up his horn and cast a spell, temporarily interrupting any connection the ley lines of shadow had to his room. Satisfied that he was finally alone, he buried his face in his hooves and cried in frustration.

However peeking out from her forgotten hiding spot, former queen of the crystal ponies, Topaz III watched as her tormentor bawled his eyes out. Watching him being berated by those above him, brought her some solace, yet as a fellow prisoner chained to somepony above them, she felt a tiny sliver of sympathy for him as well. Perhaps if she used this new found knowledge to her benefit, she could save herself and her people. And if she was feeling generous towards him, maybe even Sombra too, after she ensured that the Slave King was made aware of his crimes so that he could pay for them.

*****

Harmony led her sister and the others into her office, a large room with heavily laden shelves lining the walls that reached from floor to ceiling, holding books and ledgers of all sorts. Running her finger along the spines of the ledgers on a nearby shelf, she pulled out a thick leather bound tome and placed in on her large desk. Sitting down, she leafed through the pages with practiced ease, looking for the correct form she required. Discovering what she needed, she dipped a quill into her inkpot, and began filling out the requisite form.

Once the words were put to paper, she read what she’d written, and seemingly satisfied, marked and signed the document with a slight flourish. Sprinkling a bit of blotting powder on the document, she blew the remainder away, and pressed a gold seal to the paper. The moment the seal touched it, green magical sparks ran along the ink and paper, infusing both with its power. Giving the form one last examination, she rolled it up, poured some wax, and affixed the Slave King’s seal to it.

“Here, Melody,” she said, handing the summons to her sister.

“What’s that?” Chrysalis asked, thoughtfully examining the scroll as Melody placed it inside her satchel.

“That’s a summons,” Harmony said, not bothering to look up as she began filling out another form.

“It grants the bearer the Slave King’s full protection,” Melody explained, picking up and playing with a small glass ball containing hundreds of floating green and golden sparks suspended in a swirling multihued fluid.

“Melody, put that down!” Harmony snapped, annoyed by her sister’s childish antics. “How many times do I have to tell you not to touch my things?”

“Ah, but it’s so shiny!” she replied, before reluctantly placing it back on its stand. “I wish I owned a desk bauble like that.”

“That’s an aetheric paperstop, not a desk bauble,” Harmony protested, carefully moving the paperstop back to its proper place on her desk.

“Then what’s it do?” Melody pointedly asked, wearing a mischievous grin on her beak.

“It keeps my documents and other important papers immobile on my desk,” Harmony explained, resuming her task of filling out the form.

“Ha! So it is a desk bauble then,” Melody teased, crowing her victory much to her sister’s chagrin.

Exasperated by her sister’s silliness, Harmony placed her fingers against her temples and began massaging the black feathers beneath her fingers. “Why me…” she sighed, returning to her work. Quickly scanning the document for any errors, she pressed her seal to it, and once the seal’s magic had infused itself to the paper, she handed it to her sister. “Here’s your writ of requisition, Melody.”

“Oh, nice!” Melody said as she read it.

“I know there’s no upper spending limit, but don’t go on a shopping spree,” she said, reminding her sister to be responsible.

“Don’t worry, Harmony,” Gunhilde said, walking towards her desk. “I’ll help reign her in.”

“To what extent does the writ work?” Dame Squall asked, wondering what use it might have to them outside the Slave King’s domain.

“Well, the writ is considered as good as bits to any vendor within the Domain of Earth,” Harmony explained, putting her inkwell and quill away. “Outside the Slave King’s territory, it should be recognized by all the great banks.”

“Oh goody…” Melody squealed, rubbing her hands together in anticipation of having unlimited credit at her disposal.

Seeing her sister’s excitement at the prospect of unlimited bits, Harmony snatched it away from her sister and handed the writ to Gunhilde instead. “I’d like you to hold onto this,” she said, knowing that the levelheaded reindeer would probably be more frugal with their purchases then her easily excitable sister.

“Aw, but I wanted to buy a new lute…” Melody pouted, her disappointment displayed quite plainly on her face.

“Harmony, I’ll take good care of the writ,” Gunhilde promised, placing the writ inside her saddlebag.
“Make sure to save your receipts,” Harmony reminded them.

“But that’s so boring!” Melody complained, dreading the very thought of having to do any paperwork at all.

“Melody, I’m not going to another spend three weeks like the last time, trying to figure out how much you spent on this little adventure of yours,” she said, offering her sister a stern look.

“Oh, fine, I’ll do it,” she agreed, sticking out her tongue at her sister. “But I’m not going to like it.”

“Harmony, what path do you suggest we take?” Dame Squall said, examining a map hanging on a nearby wall with her vivid green eyes.

Harmony stroked her beak for a moment as she contemplated her question. “Normally I’d suggest flying north,” she said, giving both Dame Squall and Chrysalis a thoughtful look. “But seeing as two of you are earthbound, you have two options available to you. Take the Lonely Road west to either Bone’s Landing or Shadehoof, then charter a boat to take you north to Autumn, and then travel by foot to the Golden Eyrie. Your other choice is taking the road north through Equestria, through the Everfree Forest and past Londwhinium, until you reach the Domain of Air.”

“What about riding a landwurm there?” Melody suggested, pushing a few of her yellow feathers away from her eyes, and not relishing the thought of spending an extended period out on the road. “I’m sure Nidhogg could get us there lickity split.”

Harmony shook her head. “Most of them are out on vacation for the Slave King’s renewal,” she said, placing her hands in her lap. “And Nidhogg needs to stay here in the Neo Vale, if the Slave King requires his services. So I’m afraid you’re stuck traveling to the Golden Eyrie by other means.”

“The path through the Everfree I hear is a treacherous one, to say nothing of the border skirmishes along the Equestrian-Air Domain border road,” Dame Squall said, running her fin along the roads painted onto the map. “And the journey through the hinterlands of Autumn is fraught with perils of its own.”

“Yes, griffin raiders sometimes make the wild highlands their home,” Harmony agreed, pointing out how devoid of civilization those lands actually were. “Additionally the border roads are subject to banditry and slavers. I wouldn’t expect a warm welcome from either the ponies of griffins living there.”

A soft knock on the door, interrupted their discussion. Wondering who it was, Harmony walked to the door and opened it. “Princess Luna?” she said, surprised seeing her new mistress outside her door. “How can I help you?”

“Ah yes, daughter,” she said, pleased to discover Melody and Gunhilde inside her office as well. “We wert wondering if thou might assist us with a task.”

Seeing her sister’s annoyance at being addressed as her daughter, Melody rushed towards Luna’s side and hugged her. “Mother, have you come to see me off?” she asked, letting her go from her embrace.

Delighted by the affection she was being shown, and Melody’s acceptance of her as her new mother, Luna lightly blushed. “Nay, daughter, twas not the purpose of our visit,” she said, lightly shaking her head, causing her luxurious blue mane to flow on the invisible winds of magic. “Not that we mindeth doing such. We woulds’t be honored to see thee and thy compatriots away on thy noble quest.”

Knowing that as long as her sister kept encouraging her, Luna would continue addressing herself as their mother, she decided to ignore her faux pas for now. “Princess Luna, how can we help you?” Harmony said, offering her a slight bow. “Has the Slave King injuries proven too difficult to manage on your own?”

“Nay, daughter,” she said, entering the office and offering each of them a cursory look with her turquoise eyes. “We desireth to gain thy father’s respect and affection. We wert told by Scourge to seek thee out. With thy aid, we art confident ere long, we mayest gain his esteem and favor.”

“It really isn’t any of our place to meddle in the Slave King’s personal affairs,” Harmony reminded her, knowing full well that favoring Luna over her king, would only lead to trouble.

“Mother,” Melody said, flashing a brilliant smile at Luna as she ignored the dirty looks her sister was giving her. “I think what Harmony is trying to say, is that we would be delighted to help you win over king daddy.”

“Melody…” Harmony grumbled, annoyed that once again her sister had roped into another one of her schemes.

“Oh, we thank thee so much, our daughter,” Luna said, overjoyed that Melody had agreed to aid her in winning her husband’s respect.

“I’m sorry I can’t do much at the moment though,” Melody apologized, offering Luna a sheepish smile. “Errands to run you know.”

“Verily, daughter,” Luna agreed, noting the routes they had plotted on the map. “Though thou mayest be far away, we take comfort in the thought that thou art cheering for our success in wooing thy father. Art thou planning thy path north to the Golden Eyrie?”

“Yes, Princess Luna,” Dame Squall said, directing her attention towards the two routes they were contemplating.

Inspecting the map, Luna noticed the northern route would take them through the Everfree Forest before winding through Darkpaw’s Spine. Remembering the love affair that the previous Lord of Earth had with Lady Zephyr, she wistfully sighed, desperately wishing that her husband felt as strongly about her.

“Chevaleresse,” she said, pointing at the pass they would have to go through when they crossed the northern Equestrian border with her hoof. “The way through the broken hoof pass is a dangerous one. Tis plagued by wicked ponies and griffin marauders alike. Though shalt not pass through unscathed with thy party’s number being so few.”

“But the journey through the hinterlands of Autumn have griffin raiders as well,” Dame Squall pointed out.

“Chevaleresse of the Lawgiver, fear not for the safety of thee and thy companions,” Luna admonished, lighting up her horn with her magic.

Spying a flag of the realm hanging on the wall, she picked it up with her magic, and began infusing it with her divinity. Slowly the flag began warping and changing, as its colors shifted and faded. Instead of the Slave King’s black and silver brand superimposed over a field of green, now the flag bore her cutie mark’s image against a dark blue field of stars.

“Hoist this as thy pennant on thy travels,” she said, levitating the newly created flag to the seapony. “Few woulds’t dare attack any under the protection of our banner. Especially a Chevaleresse of the Lawgiver, a harper, and a reindeer battlemage.”

“Hey! What about me?” Chrysalis complained, objecting at having been left out of Luna’s description of their party.

“Forgive us, fair bitch,” she said, offering her a kind smile. “Snubbing thy gallantry and worth twasn’t our intent. We art sure when battle commences, thy deeds wilt be counted amongst thy companion’s bravery.”

“Apology accepted, mistress,” she said, sniffing the air in the hopes of getting another taste of the Slave King’s delicious love, only to be disappointed when she detected nothing.

“Then it’s decided then,” Dame Squall mused, glad for the opportunity to see the sea once more before heading into danger. Thinking of Dawson, she wondered if he would be more happy or surprised to see her when she finally arrived at his doorstep.

Luna looked at the map once more, and pointed towards a few towers marked on it. “Shoulds’t thou ever lose the path on thy way,” she said, offering them additional council. “Seek out the ziggurats. Lord Raiden’s sages art both wise and generous. They wilt show thee the way east to Lady Zephyr’s domain.”

“Thank you, mother,” Melody said, happy for her assistance.

“We art delighted to have been an aid to thee in thy task, daughter,” Luna said, feeling her heart swell with glad tidings.

“Oh… but what about you?” Melody asked, realizing that her journey would take her a while to complete. Giving her sister a sly look, she smiled. “Harmony, who’s going to help her when I’m gone?”

“Melody, right now’s a very busy time for me,” Harmony said, trying her hardest to dodge the responsibility of babysitting the Slave King’s wife. “There’s the tax season I have to supervise, the arcanum mining reports to look over, Bones Landing’s integration to oversee, and a hundred other things I need to attend to.”

Hearing Harmony’s excuses, Princess Luna’s ears laid back with worry. She understood her reasons perfectly. She was a busy mare, and her concerns were frivolous and silly by comparison. “Daughter,” she said, hiding her hurt at being pushed away. “We knowest thou hast more important tasks to attend to. We apologize to thee for imposing upon thee.”

Seeing how unhappy Luna looked, Harmony grimaced. It was just like dealing with her mother all over again. Going against her better judgment, and knowing she would probably regret it later, she decided to help her as best she could. “Alright, Princess Luna,” she said, looking over her schedule. “I’m sure I can find some time to assisting you in gaining the Slave King’s respect.”

“Truly, daughter?” Luna asked, happy that her plan wouldn’t have to wait for Melody’s return. “Huzzah! Thy most generous assistance, wilt not be soon forgotten. Dost thou possess any suggestions for us regarding thy father?”

Satisfied that their new mother was being left in capable hands, Melody decided it was best to depart. “Dame Squall, Gunhilde, Chrysalis,” she said, motioning for them to follow her out of Harmony’s office. “Let’s be off. If we hurry, we can do some shopping in Neo Vale before the shops all close.”

“Hey!” Harmony shouted after them. “That writ isn’t free money.”

“See you when I get back, Harmony!” Melody cheerfully said, walking from her sister.

“See you later, sister…” she sighed, shaking her head. Her sister never took anything seriously, but she wouldn’t trade her for anyfeather else. Resting her emerald eyes on Princess Luna, she decided that she’d do what she could until she came back. Sitting down at her desk, she gestured towards a cushion. “Princess Luna, tell me what are your intentions towards the Slave King?”

Luna took her seat, and looked at the magister. She knew what she desired, making the Slave King love her. She thought that earning his respect was probably the first step she needed to take, but she had no idea how to go about doing so. Scourge had told her that her husband valued forthrightness above all else, but how could she prove her integrity to him?

“Harmony, we wish to prove to thy father we art true and without guile,” she admitted, hoping that she knew how best to proceed in securing his trust.

When she heard Luna’s desire, Harmony gave the goddess a curious look. “Princess Luna, I’m not sure that’s possible,” she said, remembering what she’d been told about the origin of the Slave King’s curse.

When she heard Harmony expressing her doubts, Luna’s heart sank. Was her quest hopeless after all? “We thank thee, daughter,” she said, getting up to leave.

Looking at Luna, Harmony was reminded of her mother’s own heartbreak with the Slave King. Although her first loyalty lie with the Slave King, she felt sympathy towards the alicorn, and decided that she would do what she could to help her. “Princess Luna,” she called out, stopping her from leaving. “I didn’t mean that it’s impossible, just difficult,” she said, hoping Melody appreciated how much she willing to do for her.

“Truly?” Luna asked, feeling hope surge within her breast. “So how shoulds’t we begin?”

“Well…” Harmony said, preparing to give her a few ideas.

*****

Not since her wedding had she felt so sure of herself. Thanks to her new daughter Harmony, she finally had a chance to find the happiness that had eluded her for so long. She was certain the ideas she’d given her, would soon bear fruit, she just had to be patient.

Entering her quarters, she spied her husband fast asleep on their bed. Looking at his heavily scarred face, she wondered what he dreamed of. Ordinarily the realm of dreams was her plaything, but within her fellow deities dreams she held little influence. Bending down, she gently kissed him, and silently wished him to have sweet dreams. Moving towards the opposite side of the room, she looked out the balcony as she waited for the twilight hour to approach.

Whiling away the time, she silently counted his scars, and wondered about the story behind each of them. She supposed he was much like the ruined city surrounding the palace, broken and worn down by adversity. If she was to ever be a proper wife to such a stallion, she needed to become more like him. Here in the south, her tender and easily bruised heart was nothing more than a liability. How could she expect him to respect her, if at the first sign of hardship her face became wet with tears?

She vowed then that she’d cry no more. Her husband needed her to be a pillar of strength, full of vigor and resilience. She’d unflinchingly face these struggles, and then he’d have no choice but to respect her. If he respected her, then she thought that he might eventually feel something more for her. Watching over him as he slumbered, she silently fulfilled the vow she made to him on their wedding night, and waited for him to awaken.

Author's Note

Thank you gentlereader for reading chapter seven of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, as always comments are appreciated.

It appears the Slave King is experiencing an interesting phenomenon through his dreams. Perhaps his marriage to Princess Luna was the catalyst, or perhaps its something more. As he sees the possibility of what might be, it appears he's growing envious at what they have that he doesn't. We can only wonder what his future dreams will hold for the Slave King. Though its curious that the most remarkable thing he thought about his dream was the color of his wife's skin and hair. But judging by how the Slave King seems to appreciate his wife's talents, could it be that he's beginning to grow attached or even fond of his wife?

Sombra. Former shadow knight of The Order of the Shadow, now king over the crystal ponies, is there no limit to depths of your depravity, to the wickedness of your foul deeds? It appears that Sombra has discovered a means most foul to hurt those who thought to defy him, while corrupting others to follow in his hoofsteps. We can only hope that the Slave King becomes alerted to his perversion before it's too late, else the innocents under his malevolent gaze become corrupted beyond redemption. But it appears that in the end, he was a mere pawn to be discarded once his usefulness had ended. Will Bazzt Zzzt be next, or is the changeling assassin a wiser fellow then his fellow? Now that Topaz has learned the truth behind her tormentor, it appears that she's regained her lost hope. Will her crystalline coat return, signifying her restoration of faith in the Slave King's promise, or will she travel darker paths to free herself and her people?

Ah it appears that Melody and her companions are finally on their way to seek out Dawson of the Golden Eyrie. What adventures will they encounter on their journey over the sea and across the hinterlands of Autumn? Will Luna's banner and Dame Squall's protection be enough to dissuade angry griffins from accosting them, or will they meet danger and peril head on? Luna plead her case to Harmony, in her quest to prove herself true to the Slave King, what advice did the magister offer her, and will it do the princess any good as she tries to endear herself to her husband? Now determined to do what must be done to gain the Slave King's affection, she'd vowed to harden her tender heart and cry no more. By become more like her husband, and less like her gentle sister, is the Princess of the Night embarking upon a darker path, or is she well on her way to achieving all she ever dreamed possible?

Find out the answers to these questions and more, in the next exciting chapter of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, coming soon to computer near you!

Once again, gentlereader, thank you for reading and all your kind words and support. You make writing worthwhile. Until next time!

Chapter 8: A Daughter Gained, a Daughter Lost, and a Daughter Departed

The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter

A Story by TalonMach5

Chapter 8: A Daughter Gained, a Daughter Lost, and a Daughter Departed

The sound of his hammer striking the glowing metal made a satisfying ring, which echoed in the unusually quiet forge. Usually this place was a beehive of activity, but for the past few days very little work had been done. Not that he was complaining. No, he had very few opportunities to have a good portion of the forge and manufactorium to himself.

A short holiday was always good for morale and productivity, though he always had to stay on top of everyscale for the first few days after they resumed working. Invariably somescale would have their attention focused elsewhere, instead of on their work like they ought. It’s why he preferred the fires of the forge to the idle entertainments of the city. He saw no point in carousing around Neo Vale and getting drunk off his tail, like some of the others seemed to enjoy.

He rolled his eyes when he remembered their attempts at getting him to join them for the inaugural celebration. He’d steadfastly refused all their pleas, choosing to remain here in the forge instead. It was a good thing too, his king had needed him. So instead of wasting his time in some tavern ignoring their flirting, he’d had the pleasure of making his master a thing of beauty, a golden crown.

It was a request from a rather peculiar unicorn, Ringing Bells. She’d thought that using her feminine charms on him would convince him to aid her, but having years of practice beneath his belt brushing aside his subordinates’ feminine whiles, had left his scales impervious at any attempts at feminine manipulation. Well that wasn’t quite true, there was still one who could get him to do anything she asked. His elder sister, Melody.

Even though they weren’t siblings in the strictest sense of the word, belonging to one of the three beastfolk tribes meant taking family wherever they were found. She’d helped raise him and his sisters since they were whelps no higher than her knee. Even though he towered over her now, he still considered her his big sister. Even now, all she had to do was beg him with her puppy dog eyes, and he was putty in her hands.

Which was why, when Ringing Bells had approached him with her request to make his master as she put it, a more ‘stylish’ crown, he’d outright rejected her. At first, she tried batting her eyes and flirting with him in the hopes of gaining his assistance. He’d been busy with the Bones Landing inventory, and hadn’t wanted to be disturbed by anyscale. So he’d brusquely told her to hit the road.

When she found that her flirting had failed to gain his assistance, she tried using tears. As she cried and wailed, she sobbed and accused him of ruining absolutely everything. Watching the unicorn’s hysterical waterworks, had nearly made him burst out in laughter. He’d never fallen for any of his sisters’ tears before, and wasn’t about to start for this mare now.

When Ringing Bells found that neither her flirtation nor tears had moved him to action, she brought out the big guns, Melody. Although he protested when she’d hugged him tight, secretly he enjoyed it. In the end, he’d agree to help. All it had taken her to get him to agree to aid her, was Melody asking him if he was willing to help his Melly. Even though he groused about it, the hugs he’d received from her were well worth it.

Although he’d been resistant at first, he found making the crown for his king an enjoyable challenge. It wasn’t often that he worked with precious metals, as arcanum and iron were usually the mainstays of his forge. Working and shaping the gold, he’d added a bit of arcanum for good measure. He’d made several attempts at fashioning the crown, but found it a bit difficult deciding on its final design.

His king’s crown was of a simple design, but its simplicity spoke volumes about its wearer. It displayed very little of his face, was composed entirely of a mix of arcanum and iron, and was more a helmet then a crown. In the end he decided on a crown made up of twisting gold and arcanum wire. Where the old crown was completely plain and utilitarian, the crown he’d made for his master, was elegant and slightly ostentatious in its design.

He’d hoped that his king found his creation worthy, and to his delight had been told that he’d worn it during the entirety of his inauguration. Although he’d found the change of pace refreshing, he had so many personal projects to wanted to catch up on, that he was planning on taking full advantage of this lull to get in some headway. He had a few ideas that he wanted to work on before presenting them to his master, and now was the perfect time to do some experimentation.

Raising his large smithy hammer, he was about to strike the waiting metal when somescale interrupted him on his downward swing. “Ignatius!” a feminine voice shouted at him from across the deserted workshop floor.

“Damn it!” he grumbled, putting down his hammer and walking towards them to see what they wanted.

Walking past the silent machinery of the manufactorium, he turned a corner and raised his brow at what he saw. It was none other than Sapphire, one of his fellow dragon-halfs. Although he did find it peculiar why she was all alone. Usually, she and her sisters were never far apart. Sighing, he wondered what it was that she wanted. If it was another fool attempt at getting him to leave the forge, she was coveting after the wrong hoard. He’d already rebuffed her once, and wasn’t in the mood for any more feminine shenanigans. Like his master, he found that he had better things to do with his time than humor silly dragonesses.

“Something I can help you with, Sapphire?” he asked, tapping his claw against the red scales on his leg.

“Ignatius, the Slave King’s, coming for a surprise inspection,” she said, putting on the thick leather belt she used to carry all her tools. “I told the rest of the girls to get everything started back up, while I went to fetch you. Everything needs to be perfect for their arrival.”

Although unexpected at this hour, the Slave King had sent him a missive earlier, wishing to discuss this month’s shipment of crystals from up north. He didn’t see what the big deal was, the Slave King had recently visited the manufactorium, and had even given a tour of it to most of the goddesses on the Pantheon. As far as he was concerned it was just business as usual, and if his master wanted to do a little midnight smithing of his own, more power to him.

“Even if it’s a surprise inspection, it’s still a holiday, Sapphire,” Ignatius said, annoyed that he was being pulled away from his work, for what amounted to nothing more than a social visit. The Slave King has never stood for ceremony before, and would prefer that he spent his time productively rather than worry over pointless niceties. “Wait… did you say their arrival?”

“Of course, the Slave King’s wife is coming down as well,” she said, reaching down to straighten his belt. “So we have to give her a good first impression of the dragon-half tribe.”

“Since when has the Slave King ever been married?” Ignatius asked, annoyed with her for fiddling with his belt. Something which had taken him all night, to make it rest as comfortably as possible around his waist. He found it difficult to believe that someone like the Slave King would ever agree to get married to anyscale, after what had happened between him and Lady Zephyr.

“You didn’t hear?” Sapphire asked, arching her blue scaly brow in disbelief. “Ignatius, you really do need to get out more.”

“Hear what?” he retorted, trying to readjust his belt back to where it once was. He swore that if this was another one of their pranks, he’d have the lot of them stoking the forges for the next week.

“The Slave King married Princess Luna, it was so romantic,” she sighed, remembering the celebration fondly, and wishing she might experience a wedding like that for herself one day.

She wished that she’d had somescale to go with, but with so many dragon-half dragonesses and only three dragon-half drakes in existence to chase after, the pickings were rather slim. Especially when certain dragon-halfs were so adamant about being such sticks in the mud. But hopefully that would all change now. With the Slave King’s marriage, Ignatius had no more excuses to avoid socializing with his fellow dragon-halfs. She hoped that seeing their beloved Slave King being happily married, that he might reconsider his stubborn devotion to his own bachelorhood.

Maybe their new mistress might have some suggestions for convincing a certain unyielding drake to take his responsibilities in propagating the dragon-half tribe seriously. Although she wasn’t certain he’d cooperate, perhaps if the princess made the request personally, Ignatius would consider taking one or an even dozen of her sisters as his wives, ensuring the future of their tribe.

Spying how filthy Ignatius’s face was, she offered him a clean cloth to wash his scales. When he rolled his eyes at her, Sapphire pulled him towards her and began vigorously rubbing the cloth against the scales on his snout.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, annoyed that she thought it was her place to boss him around, when he and not she, was the forge master here.

“Well if you’re not going to put any effort into cleaning up, and properly representing our tribe, somescale has to do it!” she shouted, rubbing his scales with a fury.

“Fine, I’ll do it! Just stop, you’re going to rub the scales right off my snout,” he snapped, snatching the cloth from her claws. Wetting it in a nearby wash basin, he began scrubbing his face clean. “So what’s the big deal anyway? Why are you so excited to impress Princess Luna?”

“She’s second in power, only to Princess Celestia,” Sapphire said, wetting another cloth as she began vigorously scrubbing Ignatius’s back and shoulders. “If we impress her enough, maybe she’ll want a dragon-half forge master of her own.”

“Humph,” Ignatius dismissively snorted, thoroughly annoyed that he was being inconvenienced because she was gunning for a promotion. “What makes you think she’d pick a dragoness over drakes like Basalt or Obsidian anyways?”

“What?” Sapphire demanded, narrowing her silver eyes accusingly at him. She was furious that he’d summarily dismissed her and her sisters from ever being considered for the position if it became available. “What makes you think a dragoness isn’t just as capable as a drake?”

Happy that he’d gotten under her scales, Ignatius gave the dragoness a smug grin. Looking her over, he eyed the shining blue scales that flowed over the gentle curves of her arms, legs, tail, and torso. Running his claws along her shoulders and back, he pinched the flesh on her arms. Placing a claw on her rear end, he gave her rump a thoughtful squeeze, and pulled on her tail for good measure.

Feeling him touching her with his claws in such an intimate manner, made Sapphire’s normally blue face flush crimson with embarrassment. Slapping him across the muzzle, she bared her fangs at him. “How dare you!” she shouted, feeling conflicted by the embarrassment and arousal his behavior had elicited within her.

“Sapphire, you and the other dragonesses are much too soft to be forge masters,” he said, as he finished cleaning off the soot and grime from his scales. Flexing his bicep, he presented his arm to her. “Here, place your claws on my arm. Feel my strength and hard muscles. That’s what a forge master needs.”

Placing her claws on his bicep, she gently squoze his arm and felt his muscles. Compared to herself and the rest of her sisters, there was no comparison. He probably had at least three times her strength. She despondently sighed and looked down, when she realized that Ignatius was probably right, why would anyscale want her when they could pick one of the other much hardier drakes as their forge master instead?

Seeing her disappointment, Ignatius lifted her muzzle with his claw to look him in the eye. Staring into her silvery eyes, he offered her a sympathetic smile. “Hey, Sapphire,” he said, straightening his tool belt across his waist. “I’m not saying you and your sisters aren’t any good at running the forges, or even poor smiths, because you’re not. In fact without you, most of the work around here would take forever to get done.”

Blushing at his compliment, she felt her internal fire heating up. Even though he could be a bit of a stubborn mule at times, beneath his gruff exterior was a gentle softie. She was certain that one day somescale would make him take notice of them, and she only hoped that somescale would be her. Feeling his claws on her chin, she licked her lips in invitation, and looked into his golden eyes with hope and desire. For a moment it looked as if he might take the hint, but then he pulled away from her.

“Sapphire, we’d better be off if we want to impress our new mistress,” he said, letting go of her.

Letting out a sigh of disappointment, she nodded in agreement. “Alright, Ignatius, follow me,” she said, directing him to follow her to where her sisters were awaiting their arrival.

*****

He felt the warmth of the fires against his skin and the thrum of the great machines rumbling through his bones, and felt a wave of contentment overcome him. He was finally back in the one place he loved above all else, his manufactorium. This place, he knew it well. Even when it had been no more than a single forge, anvil and workbench, over the centuries it had grown into something great and magnificent.

From such humble beginnings, it had grown and expanded, until the great foundry had spread both far and deep beneath the surface of his domain. Originally his only purpose in making the manufactorium had been to aid him in the construction of the Vendetta. But once he’d secured his safety from the rest of the Pantheon, ensured the future prosperity of Equestria, and came to collect his promised payment, the Winding One had approached him with an intriguing proposal.

Even though they had managed to frustrate the unmentionable one’s latest scheme to free himself from the confines of the Pit, Jormungandr had told him it was only a matter of time before the destroyer would try freeing himself again. In the event that they failed in stopping his escape from the Pit in the future, the great serpent desired to commission from him great machines to stand as Equestria’s last line of defense.

Of course he’d dismissed Jormungandr’s fears out of hand. Why should the one that made the Earth tremble at his approach, and mountains move in his wake, have any cause to fear another? Especially when they were long since departed. When he heard his refusal, the Winding One simply smiled at him through half closed eyes, and asked him a single question, Would you be willing to do it for her?

Now that had made him pause. With the payment he’d received, he possessed the means to reach the Summerlands, but had no idea how to bring someone back from their eternal rest. He’d asked him then, if such a thing was possible. His answer though cryptic, had filled him with hope, There are ways and means to restoring the dead to the land of living, but the price for doing so is great.

In his haste to be reunited with her, he’d failed to give any thought to the price he’d pay for rebelling against the natural order, and eagerly agreed to build the Winding One’s great engines of war. True to his word, Jormungandr taught him the secret of calling departed souls to him. But the price for doing so was heartbreak. He hadn’t realized that without a body to inhabit, one’s soul would invariably return from whence it came.

When he realized that she would always be out of reach, he’d wept and mourned, but stubbornly refused to give up his quest to restore her. Over the ensuing centuries he’d dedicated much of his time trying to create a vessel suitable for a spirit to inhabit. At first, the results had been promising. His success in binding Scourge’s incorporeal form to his arcanum armor bore witness to that. However her soul never seemed to find purchase in any of the bodies he’d offered her. Whether arcanum, stone, earth, or clay, in the end, her soul refused them all as they crumbled into dust and ruin.

It had been so hard at first, being powerless to save her as he held her to his breast, watching her gasp her last breaths as she lay dying in his arms. But each time he met with failure and heartbreak, he vowed through his tears that the next time would be different, that he would finally succeed. It never got any easier watching her repeatedly die over the years, but the opportunity to hold her in his arms again was worth the pain of constantly reliving her loss.

But now he’d lost another, one who he’d been too afraid to accept as his own, and now she too was beyond him. The thought of losing another was nearly too much to bear, had he still possessed the strength, he would’ve given chase, and made her return home with him. Of course he knew it wasn’t beyond all hope, but could he put aside one for the sake of the other? Must he abandon the dead for the sake of the living, or should he continue as he always had, clinging to his hope of finally being reunited with her?

Sighing, he rested against his wife’s, silken blue coat. Regardless of what course he’d choose to follow, he was fulfilling his pact with the Winding One. The Devastation, the first of six engines of war commissioned by his enigmatic ally, was nearly complete, and barring any needed repairs, would soon be ready for deployment. Made completely from arcanum, and powered using the harvested crystals from the far north imbued with his divinity, he considered this machine and its fellows his magnum opus.

Prior that week, he’d threatened his sister-in-law Celestia and the other goddess of the Lunar Council with utter destruction if they didn’t leave him be. At the time, she had scoffed at what she’d considered to be empty and hollow threats, but if she knew the reality of his boasts, he wondered would she have so readily dismissed his claims? More importantly, would she have allowed him to frustrate what he figured must have been her carefully crafted plan for him?

But he was married to her sister Luna now, and dwelling on such thoughts was pointless. All that mattered now was deciding what part of the Devastation should be worked on next with Ignatius, his dragon-half forge master. Once this month’s shipment of crystals had been consigned to their intended purpose, another month would pass before any further changes to the Devastation could take place.

“Husband?” he heard his wife ask, rousing him from his thoughts.

“Wife, what is it?” he asked, losing himself to the thrumming heartbeat of the machinery in his forge.

“We knowest how thou hast propagateth thy tribes of featherfolk, kolbolds, and even thy lone griffin-half son,” Luna said, turning her head towards him. “But pray tell, how didst thou and Lord Ouroboros manage to conceive thy dragon-half foals?”

When he heard his wife’s question, he tightened his lips in displeasure at her inquiry. Truthfully, the creation of the dragon-half tribe was an embarrassment to him. He knew in ages past, all manner of couplings had occurred, resulting in the many diverse races that inhabited Equestria and beyond. The idea that he and the Fire Tyrant had done something similar with each other after their great battle as he drifted into oblivion, didn’t sit well with him.

“Tell me, wife,” he replied, hoping to silence any further questions about what might or might not have happened between himself and his enemy. “From where did the three pony tribes and zebras originate? Did you and your sister…”

Stopping in her tracks, she opened her mouth to respond, but shut it without saying anything. Her blushing face and reluctance to speak, had thankfully silenced her. She stood still, refusing to look back at him. “Husband…” she stammered, laying her ears back and nervously pawing the ground with her hoof. “Tis improper to profane the sacred in such a vulgar place.”

“Then, wife, you have your answer,” he replied, glad that his point had been made.

Folding out her wing, she gently caressed him. “Beloved, mayhaps if thou still desireth to knowest it later, we coulds’t show thee in a more reverent place?” she suggested, looking at him with her large eyes.

Sighing to himself he shook his head, she’d completely missed the point. He possessed no desire to ever discuss those events with her or with anyone else for that matter. It was better for all if things remained in the shadows, left unsaid and unspoken. However, she stood still and was waiting for his response.

Deciding that he needed to set her straight, he looked in the eye. “Wife, like my pain, my secrets are only for me to know,” he brusquely said, hoping she would finally get the hint.

His harsh tone and uncaring words raked against her heart. Biting back against her heartache, she steeled herself and banished the tears that were threatening to escape. Pleasantly smiling at her husband, she said nothing further and resumed their journey into the heart of the manufactorium. It took all her strength to hide her pain, but she’d vowed to gain his respect, even if it meant concealing a thousand cuts inflicted upon her wounded heart.

He was relieved, they were moving again. He supposed it meant that she’d given up prying at things she had no business knowing. He was worried that perhaps he might have been too rude towards her. Because regardless of their differences, she was still his wife and was entitled to a certain amount of respect, regardless of what else he felt about her. He’d been prepared to rebuff her teary refrain, when he’d outright refused to elaborate further about the origins of the dragon-half tribe. But instead of crying like he thought she might, instead she’d resumed their journey without saying anything further.

He thought that he’d seen a glimmer of hurt momentarily reflected within her teal eyes, before she’d blinked it away. That had surprised him, he’d thought that he’d have had to put up with his weepy wife’s antics for his transgression, before she’d manage to properly compose herself. It was a relief not having to deal with her tears once more, over some imagined slight against her. So far their marriage had been a series of ups and downs, mainly composed of her passionate claims of affection for him intermixed with her moody tears, with scantly anything else in between.

It seemed that a change had overcome her, and he found it refreshing. “Wife,” he said, stroking her mane with his hand. “Maybe one day I’ll tell you about it.”

Her ears perked up, but she remained silent as she pressed her wing reassuringly against him.

“Wife, we’re here,” he said, gesturing towards the open floor of the manufactorium.

All around them forges and furnaces were being prepped by dragon-half smiths, in order to resume the work of melting down raw ore and refining it into the foundation of his trade empire. This was completely unexpected, he hadn’t wished to cut their break short. He’d only desired discussing the Devastation’s condition with his forge master, Ignatius. Spying the dragon-half, he was about to wave him over and ask why he’d seen fit to start up the forges in the middle of the night, when every dragon-half got down on their knees and bowed before them.

“Ignatius,” he said, curious why they had felt the need to prostrate themselves before him. “Don’t your siblings have better things to do with your time, than waste it indulging in such foolishness?”

Looking up at her lord and master, Sapphire looked into his burning eyes. “Slave King, this was my idea,” she said, offering Luna a slight smile. “We wanted to offer our new mistress a proper welcome to her forge.”

When she heard the dragoness’s sentiment, Luna felt touched. It been so long since any had so warmly welcomed her. She remembered how her ponies had once likewise venerated her, but it had been so long since any had done so, that she’d nearly forgotten how nice it felt to be so appreciated. Knowing that like those of the other tribes, these had been bereft of their father’s love, she was bound and determined that if she had any say in the matter, they would know a mother’s.

“Rise, my daughter,” she said, offering Sapphire a warm smile. “We must thank thee and thy sisters for thy warm welcome and kinship.”

When she heard her calling her, her daughter, Sapphire looked up at the Slave King, unsure of what she should do.

Seeing her discomfort, the Slave King looked at Ignatius and motioned towards his workshop. Taking the hint, Ignatius nodded once, stood up, and clapped his hands. “Alright, everyscale!” he barked, pointing towards the waiting forges and idle machines. “This isn’t a party! Let’s get back to work.”

Groans of disappointment were heard, as the dragonesses complained about having to work on their day off. Concerned they were giving Princess Luna a bad impression of their tribe, Sapphire snapped her claws. “Hey, you all agreed to come in for some overtime!” she shouted, reminding them that they had all volunteered to come in. “Let’s not embarrass the Slave King in front of his wife.”

The others seeing her sharp look, quietly filed away to return to their stations, as Luna looked on. Following after Ignatius and Sapphire as they led the way, she marveled at what she saw. Although she’d been in here previously, she’d been too busy chasing after her husband to see the machinery up close. Hearty dragon-half dragonesses were hard at work, taking turns blowing jets of flame into the waiting forges and cold furnaces.

As they passed, she offered each of her new daughters a kind smile and graceful nod of her head. Even though her husband might not consider them any more than servants, she wanted them to know she considered them as family. In passing, she noted that many of the dragonesses were giving envious looks to Sapphire and longing looks at Ignatius. The tribe was young, and she supposed it made sense that Ignatius hadn’t chosen a mate and settled down yet.

“Husband,” she said, desiring to know more of the dragon-halfs. “Is this the extent of our dragon-half foals?”

“No, wife,” he said, giving her a curious look, wondering why she felt the need to refer to them as their children. After all, he didn’t see her referring to every mare and stallion as her son or daughter. “Their numbers are greater than this.”

“How many art there?” Luna asked, wondering why she saw so few drakes among their number. “Are there no other drakes amongst thy tribe?

“Princess Luna,” Sapphire said, turning to face her and pointing to Ignatius. “There are only three drakes among our tribe’s number. Ignatius, Basalt, and Obsidian.”

“Oh how unfortunate for thee,” Luna said, realizing the implications of having so few drakes among so many dragonesses. “Perhaps in a few years hence, that shalt change, daughter.”

Sapphire’s face grew crimson at Luna’s suggestion, and she turned away in embarrassment, while Ignatius fins grew an even darker shade of red then he normally was.

Wishing to change the subject, Ignatius decided to broach the matter of his king’s unexpected visit. “So, Slave King,” he asked, sitting down on a large stone chair. “What brings you to the manufactorium this evening? Wanting to do a little midnight metalwork?”

“No, Ignatius,” the Slave King said as Luna picked him up off her back with her magic and placed him down on a seat of his own. “I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?” Ignatius asked, curious why the Slave King felt the need to apologize.

“For running rampant in the manufactorium without alerting anyone first,” he said, knowing how annoying it must have been having over a dozen desperate woman chasing after him and stampeding through their workspace.

“Well, Slave King,” he said, folding his claws together and placing them on his lap. “I won’t say it was expected, but everyscale seemed to appreciate it when I ended up closing everything down early.”

The Slave King gave his forge master a slight smile, and nodded. “I’m grateful for your suggestion that I take things out into the old city,” he said, glad that he’d moved things out of the manufactorium before something regrettable had happened to the Devastation. “Had something irrevocable happened to the Devastation or one of the other great machines, we’d never be able to recoup the loss against our timetable.”

“My suggestion?” Ignatius asked, not sure what his master was referring to. “I don’t follow.”

“At any rate, let us discuss the Devastation’s condition,” he said, resting comfortably in his chair.

“Well, Slave King,” he said, unrolling a set of blueprints before his king. “Beyond some minor internal damage, the Devastation is nearly ready for the next phase of its construction…”

Seeing that her husband was in good hooves, Luna decided to acquaint herself with her dragon-half daughter. “Pray tell, daughter,” she said, turning away from the Slave King and Ignatius. “Come, let us speak with thee.”

“Of course, Princess Luna,” Sapphire said, pleased that her mistress wished to speak with her and slightly worried that she might embarrass herself. “What would you care to discuss.”

“Daughter, we wouldst have thee tell us of thee and thy tribe,” Luna said, drawing the dragoness in close with her wing.

“Daughter…” Sapphire murmured, wondering why she was referred so intimately by her mistress.

“Verily, daughter, thou art of thy father the Slave King,” Luna explained, giving her a reassuring smile. “When we wed our husband, we vowed to accept all of his children as our own.”

“But the Slave King has no children,” she protested, wondering how in Equestria her mistress could ever consider her worthy of being called anything more than a servant, let alone her daughter.

Displeased by Sapphire’s reluctance to accept her as her mother, Luna gave her a stern look. “Child, dost thou accuseth us of possessing a serpentine tongue like foul Discord?” she asked, fixing her eyes squarely on her.

“No… no, mistress, I just…” Sapphire stuttered, worried that she’d just ruined any chance of impressing the Slave King’s wife.

“Daughter, art we a liar?” Luna pressed, drawing Sapphire closer to her.

“No,” Sapphire said, admitting she didn’t think she wasn’t telling the truth. “It’s just that I’ve never had a mother before.”

“We wouldst be honored to be thine,” Luna said, placing her head against the dragoness. “That is, if thou wouldst permit us to be.”

“But what about the Slave King?” Sapphire asked, wondering what her lord would think of her claiming him as her father.

“Worry not of thy father’s displeasure, we shalt shield thee,” she promised, holding Sapphire close. “But mayest we knowest thy name, fair daughter?”

“I’m Sapphire, Princess Luna,” she said, feeling something wonderful within her breast as she was being held by her master’s wife. “But I’m noscale special.”

“Thou art a child of the Earth and Moon, few canst claim such,” Luna said, reminding her of their shared heritage. “But more importantly, Sapphire, never forget that thou art our daughter and belongeth to us.”

Never before had Sapphire considered herself worthy of such a thing, yet here was the moon herself claiming her as her whelp. “Thank you, mother…” she whispered, happy to accept the princess of the night as not only her mistress, but as her mother as well.

Luna rested her head against her foal, and felt truly happy. Once she’d claimed all the beastfolk tribes as her own, and shown the Slave King the sincerity of her love for them, she was sure he would start believing that her love for him was genuine as well. Looking at her husband in the distance, she smiled knowing that soon another tribe would be added to their number.

*****

It was well past midnight, and the clouds overhead shrouding the moon weren’t doing her any favors for visibility. Walking alone along the length of the Lonely Road, she looked at the overcast moon and glared at it. It was yet another thing that had cast her life into ruin. Yes, the moon. She and her sister, were the cause of all her troubles. If not for them, her beloved master wouldn’t have been cast aside by their lord like worthless slag upon the trash heap.

Even now, part of her wished that he was still with her, traveling by her side. The thought brought a small smile to her otherwise cheerless heart, but such was not to be. Her master loved his friend, her father, more than that cruel tyrant ever deserved, and had steadfastly refused her entreaties to leave his side.

Placing her hand, calloused by years of intense training to serve him, into her pocket, she ran her fingers over the coin’s face, and felt his engraved image with her fingertips. Like his cold, unfeeling heart, the coin refused to give way to the increasing pressure her fingers were placing on it. Being reminded of him, clouded her heart with a dark fury, and she desired to toss the hateful thing away from her.

But then she remembered her master’s words to her, Take the boon with you, to remember me… us by.

Even the anger she felt towards her father, for how he’d treated his friend, her beloved master, how he’d treated his own flesh and blood, for the injustice of it all, she couldn’t force her hand to cast aside the coin from her. Which was a good thing too, because despite it always dredging up hurtful memories she wished to forget, the coin granted her one boon of her choosing. If she wished to use it to bankrupt her father’s domain by demanding the entirety of his treasury, there was precious little he could do about it.

Or maybe she might demand that he hand over his crown, pelt, or even his false arm. Imagining him without any of them, she smiled darkly and released a small laugh. She imagined herself standing haughtily before him, demanding all as her boon. She imagined her father glowering at her, as he removed his crown, pelt, and false arm, and placed them on his lap. She imagined him watching her from his throne, looking nothing like the stern tyrant she’d always known him to be.

Bereft of his crown, pelt, and false arm, she imagined him looking small, petty and irrelevance. Towering over him, she removed her trophies from his weakened grasp. She imagined herself looking down at him, as he trembled beneath her harsh gaze, desperately trying to hide from her in the corner of his stone throne. Looking down at him, she saw that he was weak and frail, and barely even able to hold up his own head. All around him, the enemies that she’d dedicated her entire life to defend him from, began circling his throne like vultures waiting for their prey to perish.

Even as weak as he was, the cowards still refused to openly attack him. Even now, after all that had passed between them, if only he’d admit that she was his daughter and that he loved her, she would have leapt upon them and shown them the true fury of the Earth. But he still adamantly refused her. Instead, he seemed to grow smaller and smaller as he looked up at her with his balefire filled eyes.

Furious that even now he’d still deny her, she grit her teeth, and leaned down over him. He struggled to escape her shadow’s touch, but lacked the strength. All he could do now, was crawl about on his belly like some pathetic worm trying to escape its fate. By now both she and his throne had grown to enormous proportions, as he’d shrunken down to near insignificance. Beneath the foot of his throne, his enemies brayed for his blood as he desperately clung to his throne as he desperately tried eluding her shadow.

By now, her shadow had nearly filled the entirety of his throne, and her father was hanging precipitously over the edge with a tenuous grip. She watched his struggle to hold on with perverse pleasure, as his five fingers began losing their hold on the edge of his throne. She looked down at her own hand, and counted. Five fingers, just like him. He looked up at her and gave her a hollow look, which matched the emptiness within her heart.

Looking at her hand, she felt her gold eyes grow moist as she remembered the kind voice of her master uttering his oft spoken refrain, Remember, little pup, all parents love their children.

Reaching out to save the father who never loved her, she cried out as his grip finally gave out and watched in horror as he plummeted to his end. She stretched out to reach him with her hand, a hand which had five fingers, to grasp his, but failed to reach him in time. Her eyes filled with hot tears as she watched him being torn asunder by his numerous enemies. In her grief, she sat down on the empty throne and wept for her loss.

She looked down at his false arm, and placed her fingers against the hard arcanum steel that composed it. Its hand had five fingers, just like hers. Picking up her father’s crown, she looked into its empty eyes, before lightly placing a kiss on its forehead. Feeling alone and forgotten by everyfeather, she wrapped herself up in her father’s pelt.

“Father, I love you… Why don’t you love me?” she whimpered, mourning alone in her solitude and abandonment.

He loves you, more than you could possibly know, she heard somefeather whisper into her ear.

Opening her golden eyes, she peered into the darkness trying to pierce its inky blackness with her gaze. But beyond the empty road, she saw nothing but the broken wastes of the badlands all around her.

“Who’s there!” she shouted out, reaching for her arcanum long knife.

But the wastes remained silent and nofeather answered her challenge.

“I must be losing my damn mind,” she muttered to herself.

Feeling heartbroken from her waking dream, she decided to rest for a spell. Finding a nearby stone, she laid down her weary head, and tried getting some shuteye. As the domain of shadows and dreams overtook her, she found herself all alone in a wide open meadow. All around her, vibrant green grass was growing and flowers of all kinds were in full bloom.

Walking through the field she aimlessly wandered, content to allow the winds of fate to point the way. Beneath her feet, she felt the rich, soft earth give way to a hardened path. Deciding to see where it led, she stepped onto the path and followed it. For how long she walked, she didn’t know, but it felt right. The meadow’s path slowly gave way to gently rolling hills of heather and dale, until it eventually led her before a great tree so tall, its branches seemed to scrape the heavens.

Wishing to rest from her sojourn, she sat down beneath the green canopy of the great tree’s gently swaying leaves and branches. Resting against the tree’s smooth golden bark, she looked up into the heavens and sighed. It was so peaceful, that she felt she could be happy staying here forever. Placing her hands behind her back, she closed her eyes and sat in silence, enjoying the warm summer’s breeze blowing through her red plumage.

"Hello there…" she heard somefeather say to her.

Opening her eyes, she tilted her head as her golden eyes darted back and forth trying to discover who it was that had just spoken to her. Although she had no idea who the voice belonged to, they sounded familiar to her. Sitting up, she scanned the nearby meadow looking for whoever it was, but came up empty handed once more. Beyond the large tree, all she could see for leagues in all directions, was endless plains and rolling meadows.

Extending her wings, she was about to take off into the air to scout out her surroundings, when the selfsame voice spoke to her once more. “You look lost. Are you searching for someone?”

Looking down, she found the source of the voice. Nestled between the gnarled roots of the great tree was a unicorn mare. She looked up at her with wide purple eyes, and offered her a kind smile. The light filtering through the canopy and lighting upon her light blue mane and coat, made them shimmer like the silvery light of the harvest moon. The young mare was resting upon her legs, seemingly without a care in world, as she hummed an enchanting melody.

When she heard the unicorn’s tune, it brought tears to her eyes and soothed her weary heart. Listening to the music in silent contemplation, she imagined the warmth of her father’s embrace. Allowing the steady beat of his heart to beat in time with hers, letting her know how pleased he was with her, and that he loved her as his daughter. Finally experiencing the love of the father that she’d never dared hope she’d ever know, she cried, unashamed to let any see her joyful tears.

Never before had she known such joy, and she looked down at the singing unicorn with gratitude shining in her reddened eyes. Enraptured by the song, she allowed the melody to carry her away with its lilting cadence. All at once, she knew what it was to experience her father’s pride at her accomplishments, to feel the gentle warmth of his smile, to hear him finally praise her.

But like all good and wonderful things that must sometime end, so too did the mare’s loving melody. Sighing with disappointment as the last few notes of her wondrous song drifted away on the gentle summer breeze, she got down on her knees, and offered the unicorn her heartfelt thanks.

“Did you like my song?” the unicorn asked with her melodic voice, tilting her ears forward and looking up expectantly at her guest.

“Thank you. Your song… it touched me deeply,” she said, sniffing a few times and wiping her eyes on her sleeves.

“Your welcome, Aria,” the mare replied, sitting up on her haunches and resting her head on her knee.

“How do you know my name?” Aria asked, confused how this perfect stranger could know her well enough to sing a song, that could make her feel such a wellspring of emotion.

“You know he loves you, don’t you,” she said, tilting up her head to look Aria in the eye.

“Who loves me?” Aria asked, placing her hand on the mare’s silken mane.

“Our father,” she answered, giving her a loving smile.

Although she still felt the warmth of the mare’s song echoing through her soul, the bitter emptiness she held for her father’s cold indifference towards her and her sisters’, hardened her heart as she thought of him.

“My father… He’s nothing but a cold, unfeeling tyrant!” she venomously hissed, feeling her anger towards him beginning to rise. “He feels nothing for nofeather, not even his oldest friend, or even his own flesh and blood. But what would you know about him?”

“I know he loves you, Aria,” she replied, raising her hoof to embrace her much larger sibling.

Feeling a kinship with the pony, Aria accepted her embrace, and ran her fingers through her mane. “How do you know he loves me?” she asked, desperately wishing that what she was being told, was the truth.

“Because when I’ve looked into our father’s heart,” she replied, holding Aria close. “I’ve seen the love he holds for you within him.”

“You keep saying our father. Who are you really?” Aria asked, wishing to know who this pony, that knew so much about her, was.

“Somepony who loves you very much, sister,” she said, hugging her tightly.

Realizing who it must be, Aria looked into the unicorn’s purple eyes. “You’re Little Bleu aren’t you?” she asked, basking in the warmth of their familial embrace.

“Yes, Aria, I am,” she admitted, breaking their hug.

Remembering how she’d felt when Master Scourge revealed the existence of the Slave King’s long deceased and much beloved daughter, Aria felt her heart twist into conflicted knots. She felt anger and resentment towards the daughter who had always known what had been forever denied to her, their father’s love. But when she beheld her kind and loving eyes, her heart melted, and she was unable to feel any anger towards her elder sister.

“You know, Little Bleu, I’m envious of you,” she said, wiping away the tears from her eyes with her sleeves. “You’ve known our father’s love.”

“I’m rather envious of you too, Aria,” Little Bleu replied, smiling as she joined her sister in tears. “It’s been so long since I’ve last hugged him.”

Having finally removed the painful weight of regret from her soul, Aria felt as light as feather. “So what now?” she asked, lightly sniffing as she brushed Little Bleu’s mane. “Should I return home?”

“Aria, that’s for you to decide,” Little Bleu said, looking up at the great tree overhead. “But you might find what you’re looking for out on the open road.”

“What is it that I’m looking for?” Aria asked, wondering aloud what exactly it was that she really wanted.

“Aria, given enough time, I’m sure you’ll discover it for yourself soon enough,” Little Bleu said, offering her a hug. “Farewell, sister. Until we meet again.”

Looking at her hands, Aria saw that she was beginning to fade away. “Little Bleu, wait!” she cried out, wishing that their time together didn’t have to end quite so soon.

Watch over daddy for me, Little Bleu called out, as she faded into the darkness.

Opening her eyes, she found that it was still dark. A cool breeze blew past her, causing her to shiver. Standing up, she briskly rubbed her arms as she remembered the beauty of her sister’s song and no longer felt quite so cold. Looking to the east from whence she came, she noticed that the sky was threatening to turn pink. Soon it would be the dawn of a new day, and she needed to decide for herself if she wished to return home to face her father, or continue on her journey.

Although her conversation with Little Bleu had soothed her heart, she still felt conflicted over her father’s stubborn refusal to claim her as his daughter. But perhaps she was right, and she’d discover for herself what it was that she was truly searching for. Knowing that she needed to do this for herself, she decided before returning to confront her father about her parentage, she would see her quest through to its end.

She was determined that she would prove to everyfeather, herself, and even her stubborn father, by her journeys end that she was his daughter, and would no longer be denied her birthright. Stepping back onto the Lonely Road, she looked to her past in the east once more, before resuming her journey west to discover her destiny.

*****

It was a cold night, but the heat from the slowly dying fire was keeping him warm, as well as the magical fire burning within his unusual companion. Outwardly she was nothing like him, but due to circumstances beyond his control, he found himself bound to her. Not that he minded her company, but as he rested beside her, he found himself wondering why she’d done anything for him at all.

Of course there was the obvious reasons she’d stated, her impassioned claims of the love she held for him certainly sounded convincing. But beyond the superficial connection he held with her one time lover, the Slave King, the threads connecting him to her were tenuous at best. Snuggling against the downy softness of her feathers, he contentedly sighed. As bed mates were concerned, he could certainly do worse than sharing his bed with a beautiful woman, but there was something about her that still bothered him.

He was sure it wasn’t her feathers, his best friend and adopted brother had been a griffin after all, and his feathers had never bothered him before. He didn’t even mind that she wasn’t more like him. Having spent the last ten years of his life amongst the diverse tribes of Equestria, had helped him gain an appreciation for some of the more exotic qualities of their women. Having been forced to serve in a brothel for a month by his former master, had certainly helped broaden his horizons when it came to his tastes in female companions.

There was something else that was bothering him about her steadfast devotion to his happiness. If he didn’t know better, he’d have sworn she was trying to absolve herself from something. If that was the case, he could relate. Even after all these years, the guilt he felt regarding the capture of his brother Snowe still weighed heavily his heart. He only hoped that once they had reached the Western Sea, and he'd fulfilled his promise to them, that he could finally put both of them to rest.

But the question that was ever on his mind was, once he’d fulfilled his vow to them, what next? He supposed he could wander the land, discovering what hidden treasures it held, maybe even placing stakes down and trying his hand out in the good life. After all, if his darker half had managed to spawn three tribes, perhaps he could possibly have children of his own one day as well. Looking at his companion, he contemplated her beauty.

Perhaps once this was all over, he should seriously consider her offer. After all, if he really wanted to start a family, he needed a good woman by his side, and she did seem to care for him a great deal. Besides, how often was it that one could claim to have caught the eye of a literal goddess? Resting against her fluffy feathers, he wondered if all this good fortune was fate’s way of apologizing to him for all the struggles and heartbreak he’d experienced over the previous decade.

Contemplating her divinity, he wondered what it was that had driven him to do the terrible things that he’d been told were his doing. Even now after being told of the Diamond Vale’s destruction, he still had difficulty believing that he could have been the one responsible for its ruination. Oh certainly visiting retribution on Lasher and his two goons would have been on his to do list. But killing the city’s entire population, without any concern for each victim’s individual guilt, he considered beyond the pale.

He wondered if thoughts of what he’d done had ever weighed heavily on his mind, or if he’d become so arrogant and twisted over the years, that any regrets for his misdeeds were beneath his notice. He supposed that giving any further thought to himself was an exercise in futility. After all, she’d warned him that if he ever discovered his existence, his doomhounds and armies would surely follow him to the very ends of the earth to apprehend him if need be.

For what reason he wasn’t quite sure, for if what she told him about himself was the truth, among the various deities of the Pantheon he was a veritable powerhouse. His domain, combined with his strength and cunning had made him strong and powerful. So the question remained, with such power at his beck and call, why would he fear a powerless mortal like himself?

The only thing he possessed which might prove a threat to his uncontested rule over his realm was the face they both shared, and even that was no longer an issue. His companion had used her magic to mostly erase his scars, and had even granted him a new face to wear. Now beyond the brands of his former masters affixed to his shoulders, next to nothing connected him to himself.

Pondering all the reasons he might have to persecute himself, he felt his beautiful companion stirring beside him. Running his fingers through the pink, downy softness of her belly, he felt strange desires welling up within him. It felt like a rather pressing need to do something. What exactly, he had no idea. He felt a boundless hunger within him, but knew no food would sate his appetite, and a great thirst, but suspected no amount of drink would slake it.

He tried ignoring it, but soon found himself trembling against her. Every passing moment the unmet needs became ever greater, as he felt the burning hunger threatening to consume him. He flesh burned with cold fire, and his bones ached as if he were being ground beneath the weight of a great mountain. He was worried and confused by his condition, never before had he known such agony. But all the same, he welcomed it. Feeling this way, somehow felt right, he instinctually knew he just needed an outlet for his hunger, and all would be right in the world.

Then he felt something new stirring within him. Although he still ached and burned, these new sensations made him momentarily forget his troubles. He felt a strength he never knew was possible for a mortal to possess, emanating from within his gut. It made him feel alive and powerful, and he desired, no needed more. Soon he became acutely aware of a similar strength all around him, almost as if he was bathing in a pool of raw energy.

All around him, the strength and power were ebbing and flowing around him. Some of which felt quite similar to what he’d felt earlier, while others were foreign and unfamiliar to him. Feeling overwhelmed by these strange new sensations, he leaned hard against his companion and felt his hunger grow anew. He understood his desires clearly now, she possessed something he needed badly, but what it was, he wasn’t quite sure.

If not for the kindness she’d shown him earlier, and her immense magical power, he knew he’d have no qualms taking from her what it was, that he didn’t know he needed. The hunger was growing impatient now, and the waiting felt nearly unbearable. While all the while, the primal desires his companion’s loveliness were eliciting within him, mocked and derided any notion of self-control.

Suffering like this was nearly intolerable. All he knew was that she held something that he needed to possess, and if he didn’t answer his hunger soon, that he’d go mad. He felt her moving in her sleep, as she shifted her position against him. Ashamed of how aggressive he was feeling towards her, he held onto his companion as tightly as he dared, trying to delay the inevitable violence that was urging him forward.

“Hmm… couldn’t sleep, love?” she murmured, placing her wing protectively over him.

“Suzaku… there’s something wrong with me,” he gasped, afraid he couldn’t control himself any longer.

“Elrey dear, what’s the matter?” she asked, looking at him with concern in her ruby eyes.

“I hurt and ache all over,” he panted, trying his best to restrain himself from hurting the first soul in ages that had shown him any kindness.

Placing her wing against his feverish forehead, she offered him a gentle smile. “It’s time, my love,” she said, caressing him with her wing.

“Time… time for what?” he said between ragged breaths, unable to fully comprehend what exactly was happening to him.

“Shh, my love,” she cooed into his ear, tenderly embracing him. “Don’t resist it. Soon it will be over, and all will be right once more. Let me take care of everything for you, darling.”

Desperate for this misery to end, and frantic to possess what he sensed she was keeping hidden from him, he nodded his assent. “Do what you must, Suzaku,” he said, finally submitting himself to hunger which raged within him, and the love she claimed she had for him.

Pleased that he was finally hers once more, she began singing softly to him as she unleashed her magic. When her magic took hold of him, he surrendered to the pleasure he felt as her divinity mingled with his eager flesh, and sighed when her magic and divinity entwined with his willing soul. Enraptured by her power, he lost himself to the exquisite pleasure she offered him. Gently pressing him to her breast with her wings, the love and passion she’d repressed for so long for her long estranged lover were rekindled, as she serenaded him with the song of creation.

*****

“Well, Slave King,” Ignatius said, directing his master’s attention towards several marked points on the Devastation’s blueprints. “As you can see, beyond some minor internal damage, the Devastation is nearly ready for the next phase of its construction.”

The Slave King carefully inspected the schematics. They were entering a critical phase, and the successful completion of this project hinged on their next decision. They only had enough crystals to prototype one of the two last critical components needed for the construction of the Devastation. While he was unconcerned regarding their skill and ability to build the great machine, recent events had made him concerned for its viability towards its intended purpose.

“Ignatius,” the Slave King said, pointing to the plans. “What do you think should be our next step?”

Ignatius looked into his master’s flickering green eyes, thoughtfully knitting his brow as he considered his lord’s question. “The mind or heart. Slave King, both components are needed for it to properly function,” he said, counting out the tally of the available crystals that Nidhogg had delivered from the Crystal Domain. “But I’m a simple smith, not a warrior or a philosopher. I don’t know which has more worth in battle.”

“Yes,” the Slave King agreed, echoing the dragon-half’s assessment. “A sharp mind is needful, lest you become overly reliant on brute strength to seize victory.”

“And without a heart, could you know bravery, or the worth of what you’re fighting for?” Ignatius said, looking out over the empty expanse of the manufactorium.

“I fear both are needed in equal measure, Ignatius,” the Slave King said, stroking his beard. “With only a mind to control its actions, the Devastation would be cunning yet cruel, and with only a heart to guide it, it would be a stalwart defender, yet lack the wisdom to act.”

"A most vexing decision indeed,” the Slave King agreed, wishing the choice was an easier one to make. “Once, I would have chosen cunning without a second thought towards its possible cruelty. Yet, now I’m not so certain that’s the prudent course to take.”

“Master, we have plenty of time before its scheduled for completion,” Ignatius pointed out, reminding him they had centuries more to complete their task.

“Ignatius, but what if I don’t?” the Slave King countered, knitting his brow with worry. “As weak as I am now, maybe I no longer have the luxury of time.”

“What do you mean, Slave King?” Ignatius asked, rushing to his master’s side with concern. He found the very idea that his nigh invulnerable liege had befallen to some calamity troubling. “You are the Earth, master. Its strength, its power, is yours to command. How could the mighty Lord of Earth ever be weak?”

“Ignatius, I have fallen prey to a foul curse,” the Slave King said, finally admitting the severity of his condition to him. Looking warily towards Princess Luna and Sapphire, he shook his head. “I know not the origins of the curse, whether it was cast upon me by a disgruntled member of the Pantheon or from the shadows by some cabal conspiring against me. It’s only thanks to Princess Celestia and my wife’s benevolence that I even survived, though my ordeal will leave me significantly weakened into the foreseeable future.”

“Are we to war then, my king?” Ignatius asked, feeling a barely contained fury beneath his scaly hide, enraged that any would dare to so cravenly attack his beloved master in such a cowardly manner.

“No, Ignatius,” the Slave King said, raising his metal hand and shaking his head. “For now we gather our strength, and bide out time. Those who sought my ruin will make themselves known soon enough, once they have grown overly bold and have revealed themselves to us, only then we will strike with down all the fury of the Earth!”

“Slave King, I’ll see to it personally that the manufactorium runs without issue,” he said, desiring to be fully prepared when the time to strike was at claw. “But the question of what should be built next, still remains.”

“And what question is that, husband?” Princess Luna asked from behind his chair, placing her head upon his shoulder.

“A bothersome one, wife,” he replied, not sure that she could offer him any council of value.

“Mistress, I’m afraid the specifics behind our debate are rather technical,” Ignatius explained, hoping to dissuade her from prying too deeply into the war machine’s intended purpose and schematics.

Wishing to aid her newfound mother, Sapphire leapt to her defense. “Ignatius, our mother doesn’t need to know every last detail,” she said, hoping to prove to them both, that neither she nor her mother should be discounted any further. “A simple rundown of the Devastation's construction so far, should be adequate to acquaint her.”

“Our mother?” Ignatius slowly asked, narrowing his eyes cautiously as the Slave King. “Master, does that mean I should start calling you dad?”

“Ignatius…” the Slave King warned, his tone suggesting that he shouldn’t pursue that line of thinking any further.

“We shan’t speak for our husband,” Luna said, offering the dragon-half a warm smile. “But we wouldst be delighted if thou wert to claim us as thy mother.”

Knowing that entertaining this line of thinking any further might raise some dangerous questions, the Slave King decided to redirect the conversation towards something more innocuous. “Wife, we’re building a war machine. The Devastation,” he explained, pointing towards the schematic laid out on the table in front of them. He waited as she levitated the plans in front of her, and allowed her a few moments to acquaint herself with them before continuing.

“Husband, we see the plans for thy engine of war is ambitious,” she remarked, impressed by the scope of such a massive undertaking. “We art impressed with the greatness of thy vision.”

“Once completed, it will be the war machine,” the Slave King said, pointing towards two additional schematics. “However, two key components are required before we can finally complete its construction. Its heart and mind. We must choose which should be built first.”

“Pray tell, beloved, why not buildeth the twain in tandem?” she asked, still examining the blueprints.

“We lack the material to do so, mistress,” Ignatius explained, showing her the available stockpile of crystals left in the manufactorium’s inventory.

“So, wife,” the Slave King asked, turning towards Luna to face her. “What should we build next?”

“We wouldst have thee showeth us thy great work, husband, that we mayest advise thee properly,” Luna said, placing the blueprints back on the table.

“Very well, wife,” the Slave King agreed, directing Ignatius to take them to where the half-finished Devastation was being built.

Ignatius nodded, and began pulling several levers. With a lurch, the platform they were standing on began moving along a track through the manufactorium towards their destination. Looking over the guardrail, Luna gawked as the platform slowly moved above the workshop floor beneath them. Once the machine was within view, she stared in awe at its massive size. Although she’d seen it up close, she was unable to appreciate how large it actually was, until she was viewing it from above.

Amused by her wonder, the Slave King raised his arm and pointed towards the machine which he’d spent the better part of five centuries constructing. “Wife,” he said, offering her a small smile. “I present to you the Devastation.”

“Husband,” she said, studying the marvelous machine. “Thy drawings wert insufficient in describing thy work's magnificence.

“So tell me, wife,” he asked, curious to know her opinion. “What should be built next? Its mind, or its heart?”

Pausing for a moment as she contemplated her answer, Luna studied the machine and said, “Husband, we believeth thy machine needeth…”

Author's Note

Thank you gentlereader for reading chapter eight of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, as always comments are appreciated.

Here we've finally returned to the manufactorium and the dragon-halfs manning it. It appears that the oft mentioned Devastation is nearly completed and requires some further thought between the Slave King and his forge master regarding its further manufacture. Ignatius seems to take after his lord when it comes to women, while Sapphire and the other pine for his affection. Perhaps they should ask Melody for some tips on winning the romantically reluctant dragon-half over.

It appears that Luna's plan to win over her husband is two fold. First, she seems determined to no longer show her husband her tender heart, instead she wishes to show him her strength. Second, she apparently thinks that co-opting the beastfolk tribes as her children will endear herself to him. It appears that the Slave King seems to be weary of any addressing their parentage. Only time will tell if her latest plan to gain her husband's respect will succeed or backfire.

The Lonely Road is well named, especially for those who travel its length alone in the dark of night. Although Aria seems taken with angry thoughts for her father. We can only wonder how she'll choose to spend her boon. Will she enact her dreams of vengeance against her father to his ruin, or will she use it to aid her in discovering her destiny? And what of her talk with the long deceased Little Bleu? Although she might have come to terms with her elder sister, she seems determined that her father finally recognize her as his daughter.

Meanwhile, Elrey seemed to be afflicted by both his worry regarding the Slave King, and a new hunger. For what he'd not quite sure, but his companion, guide, and protector Lady Suzaku, seems to know exactly what the doctor ordered.

It seems the question, what is of greater worth, the mind or the heart? is a vexing conundrum for the Slave King to solve. A cunning and cruel mind, versus a brave and stalwart heart. Which will serve him better, alas he doesn't know. Perhaps his wife has the answer he seeks.

Find out the answers to these questions and more, in the next exciting chapter of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, coming soon to computer near you!

Once again, gentlereader, thank you for reading and all your kind words and support. You make writing worthwhile. Until next time!

Chapter 9: Vengeance Versus Tempered Justice

The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter

A Story by TalonMach5

Chapter 9: Vengeance Versus Tempered Justice

It had been three days since they had last seen either hoof or hide of the mudslinger scum. It rankled his feathers when he thought of how that mudslinger had managed to escape. If not for his diminutive companion’s timely intervention, that pegasus slaver scum would be food for the crows. Remembering the magical force he’d been struck with earlier, made him nervously tap his talons against the veldt’s broken stony soil as he set about cleaning the veldt hares he’d managed to catch for dinner.

Like all griffins, beyond his affinity for Air Magic, he was at a distinct disadvantage when it came to battling against those talented in the mystic and divine arts. He thought it was unfair that somefeather who might otherwise be easy prey for his sharp beak, cruel talons, and great strength, was able to hold their own or even beat him thanks to their magical abilities.

He was a griffin after all, it wasn’t fair expecting him to withstand a caster’s magical onslaught unaided and alone. It’s not like he could pull a horn out of his arse, and cast magic like one of those damned unicorn bastards. But give him an opponent he could pummel any day of the week, that was something he could sink his talons into. Which made his failure against their quarry all the more embarrassing.

He’d been up against a much weaker opponent, a pegaus for Zephyr’s sake! They’d had so many advantages too, the slaver scum should have been an easy kill for them. But instead of victory, he’d known naught but defeat and dishonor. He and his sister had outnumbered their pegasi foe, but within minutes Raine had been struck down by their iron shod hooves.

As for himself, he’d been forced to choose between avenging his sister and saving her from falling to her death. Under the circumstances, he’d made the only choice possible, rescuing her from an early grave. Nearly losing his only remaining family had been a hard blow, and he’d been ready to give up the chase, but Raine held his beak in her talon and demanded that he redeem her honor by slaying that pony.

Although it cut him deeply to leave her in such a state, he’d been confident in his skill and ability as a warrior to make quick work of the pegasus that had dared show his muzzle uninvited inside a griffin town, before returning to his sister’s side. But he’d been overconfident in his resolve, and that had nearly cost him everything. Instead of striking down that slaver when he’d had him at his mercy, he’d made the mistake of taking his time to enjoy it.

To his great shame, he’d made the same mistake twice. First, he’d thought to confess to the pegasus the reason he held such great hate for him and his feather stealing kin. He’d thought that perhaps it might have brought some balm, some closure to the anger he held regarding his mother’s capture and enslavement at the hooves of pony slavers. But instead of showing the slightest remorse for his kind’s collective sins, he’d only mocked him.

The second time he’d made the mistake of trying to reason with the slaver’s small fry companion. As far as he was concerned, he’d no quarrel with whatever strange tribe she belonged to. He’d been perfectly willing to spare her from his talon’s wrath. After all it wasn’t reasonable to expect everyfeather to know of the ponies crimes against his people. But instead of allowing the slaver to meet a swift and just end, she’d used her powerful magic to brush him aside like dead leaves. He supposed as much a pony as she looked like, she chose the familial bonds of a far removed cousin rather than seeing that justice was done.

Looking at his sister Raine, he couldn’t fault the tiny creature for her loyalty, but should they ever meet again, any thoughts of mercy towards her or her companions would be out of the question. When next they met, both she and the pegaus she’d protected, would meet their end by his talons. With a sharp tug, he ripped the hare free from its skin and placed it beside the others.

“Something on your mind, Len?” Raine asked, looking up at her brother as he prepared their meal.

Ever since her injury, they had been making use of this camp site until she was well enough to resume their hunt of the one who had hurt and dishonored her. Although the shame of her defeat at the mudslinger’s hooves still stung, the battle hadn’t been an entire loss. Looking down at the white feather she’d strung around her neck, she lightly blushed as she thought of its owner.

Greatly wounded and crippled from her fight with that wicked pegasus, she’d been laying helpless and undefended on the broken sod, drifting in and out of consciousness when her savior had come to her rescue. She couldn’t remember much beyond the gentle way they had cleaned and dressed her wounds with a soothing balm. At first, she’d weakly struggled against them, believing they were a raider who wished to rob, kill, or possibly do even worse to her.

But instead of robbing her of her virtue and leaving her for dead on the Highlands of Autumn, they had started a fire and left her enough food and ointment to last her for several days. Never before had anyfeather outside her brother, had ever shown her such kindness, and she didn’t know quite how to feel about it. While it was true griffins were a fierce and proud people, they were also quite passionate and loyal to those they cared for.

Contemplating the feather she held in her talon, she wondered what sort of feather they were. She was certain they were from fairly strong and noble stock, because living here in the Hinterlands of Autumn wasn’t for the faint of heart. Here beyond the safety of civilization and comforting craggy peaks of the Domain of Air, was nothing beyond rolling plains, veldt, and forested taiga. Hidden in the tall grass, bandits and slavers could lurk anywhere, and without any nearby high places to take off from, weaker griffins would be easy prey to their predation.

Contemplating their identity, she decided they must be somefeather who had willingly eschewed the company of their fellow griffins. Perhaps they were a warrior poet who had grown weary of battle, and had sought peace and refuge from the wars of their people in the solitude this place offered. Maybe they were a foundling in search of a purpose, and they had come to the veldt to prove and gain honor for themselves. Or maybe they were a disgraced noble seeking redemption in the untamed wilds from some hidden shame.

She imagined they had come upon her bruised and battered form on accident. Cautiously approaching her, they must have been shocked that such a calamity had befallen her here in the wilds, with nofeather there to offer her succor. She was certain their heart had raced and pulse quickened when they cleaned and dressed her wounds. Surely they had been entranced by her beauty, and longed to grace her beak with a gentle kiss before they left her. But their honor and integrity wouldn’t allow them to take advantage of a lady in her condition.

She felt her face grow flush and chest grow warm when she imagined her savior giving her one last look, before retreating back into the tall grass. Oblivious to everything else, she lightly giggled when she thought of what they might say when she finally tracked them down.

“Hey, Raine!” she heard Len shout, rousing her from her reverie.

Looking away from the feather, she looked at her brother slightly miffed that he’d interrupted such a delightful daydream. “Yes, Len?” she asked, as thoughts of the feather’s owner pranced through her head.

“I was just asking you, if you thought you might be well enough to travel tomorrow?” he asked, holding a spitted rabbit in his talons as he looked at the feather she was holding.

Raine gave her brother a thoughtful look before gingerly rolling her shoulders and extending her wings. Flapping them twice, she winced a bit before folding them to her sides. Although they still felt a bit stiff, she was pretty sure she could manage a little traveling if the pace wasn’t too brisk. Offering him a gentle smile, she reached out and placed her talon on his shoulder.

“I think I might be up for it,” she said, looking hungrily at the rabbits roasting on their spits. “Besides, Len, we’ll never get around to making that pegasus suffer, if we stick around here forever.

When he heard her words, he felt a surge of relief rush through his heart. Even though his sister would suffer some scars from her ordeal, a painful reminder of his failure to protect her, she was going to make a full recovery. Seeing the hunger in her eyes for their meal, and hearing the hunger for vengeance in her words, brought him solace. If he’d lost the only remaining family that he had left, he wouldn’t have known what he’d have done.

Now assured of her full recovery, they simply had to hobble towards the nearest town, and see a healer to mend them. Then they would be free to avenge themselves against the mudslinger who had done this to them, and make them pay for their crimes against griffinkind. Imagining the satisfaction he’d feel when he finally wrung the life out of that mudslinger’s neck, he smiled with satisfaction as he turned the spits over the fire.

Satisfied that their meal wasn’t about to burn, he turned his thoughts to what they would have to do once the business with the pegasus had been seen to. Turning to his sister, he rolled his eyes when he saw her playing with her savior’s feather once more. He didn’t know what had gotten into her, as poor as their clan was, the only thing they had of any value was their titles. Which would be of little value to either of them, if they ended up marrying some unlanded commoner or wildfeather living in the middle of nowhere.

Didn’t she know that the only hope of restoring their clan to greatness, was marrying into one of the other clans, preferably one of the wealthier clans based in the Golden Eyrie, the renowned capital of their domain. Even though he found thoughts of pledging himself sight unseen to their anonymous savior distasteful, he hoped that the identity of the one who had saved his sister was a hen.

Being honest with himself, he knew any hopes for restoring their clans fortunes rested with his sister. He knew he was considered handsome amongst his peers, but Raine’s beauty was such that many a noble would gladly offer their talon in marriage to her. He supposed even if he must marry some unknown hen to ensure their clan’s prosperity, it could be worse, Raine’s savior might actually end up being a pony.

Sprinkling some herbs on the roasting rabbits as he turned them once more, he found the irony of such a possibility humorous. Avenging themselves on one pony, only to seek out another to join their clan in marriage. Such a thought was preposterous! If that was the case, they might as well forget about trying to restore their clan, and move on to Londwhinium instead.

But there was no chance of that, the only pony for leagues was the soon to be slain mudslinger bastard. So for now all they needed to do was concentrate on enjoying their meal and getting a good night’s sleep, before making their way to the nearest settlement to be healed so they could plan their revenge on their enemy. Smelling his cooking he smiled, dinner was nearly ready.

Removing the spits from the fire, he handed one of the rabbits to his sister. “Raine, you need to build up your strength, so you can have the biggest one,” he said, handing her the largest roasted rabbit.

Letting go of the feather that had captured her heart, she offered him a grateful smile before digging her beak into the rabbit. “Thank you, brother,” she said in between hearty bites. “This is so good.”

Looking wearily at the feather, he hoped that she wouldn’t be too heartbroken when they discovered the identity of the mystery hen who had saved her. “I love you, Raine,” he said, grabbing a rabbit of his own.

Grateful to have such a wonderful brother as him, she put down her meal and embraced him. “Len, I love you too,” she murmured, holding him tight. “I love you too.”

*****

Sitting at the large stone table, he sighed as he rubbed his talons against the black and silver plumage at his temples. This meeting had been going on for hours, not that he minded listening to the long winded speeches of his peers, but rather it was what they were discussing that was tiring. The fierce and proud matriarch goddess of the griffins, Lady Zephyr, had suddenly gotten it into her pretty little head to do something about the slave trade.

He supposed if he was a devout feather, that thinking ill of his goddess might be considered improper, blasphemous even, but he was a businessfeather first and foremost. Even though he found the pony slavers personally repugnant, the bits they supplied him and many others on the council to look the other way regarding their clandestine activities, had made many a noble quite wealthy.

But beyond the lucrative flow of coin for their tacit agreement in ignoring the slaver activities in the Domain of Air, the slavers gave the clans a hated enemy to rally behind. Losing a useful enemy for propaganda purposes would draw unwanted attention and the eyes of the dissatisfied lesser clans towards the other issues afflicting the realm. The high land taxes and rent the ruling clans of the council enjoyed levying against everyfeather else for one.

Whenever money was a little short, the council simply had to issue a new temporary tax under the guise of raising a levy to deal with the slaver gang problem. Of course instead of commissioning a levy to hunt down the pony slavers, they simply had to send word to their partners in Equestria to halt their chicknapping for a fortnight or two, and as far as everyfeather was concerned the levies had done their job in putting a halt to the slave gangs.

But the elegance of their little arrangement was far more profitable when there was a lull in their activities, because when the slavers put a hold to their chicknapping they still needed slaves to send down south. Thus the price per slave usually tripled, and as the Master of Laws he made sure a steady supply of prisoners were made readily available to his partners during these dry seasons, resulting in a windfall of profit for his coconspirators and himself.

He supposed as a griffin he should feel something towards the enslavement of his fellows, but the money was too good. These agreements had been followed for centuries, and with strict quotas in place regarding how many could be taken every fortnight, nofeather had ever managed to quite catch on to the scheme. Until now that is. It appeared that during her travels, Lady Zephyr’s little brat Dawson, had seen fit to go poking his beak where it didn’t belong.

Spying a griffin en route to the slave markets of the Neo Vale, the misguided fool had nearly caused an interdomain incident in trying to free them from their new owner. During the scuffle, and thanks in part to the slaver’s bungling, Lady Zephyr had discovered the griffin and the others inside the slave wagon were being illegally smuggled south.

When he’d first learned that she’d found out about the scheme, he’d wanted to throttle his unicorn partners. Although he would be out the bits for that shipment, the more vexing and pressing issue was the perfect smuggling route through Shadehoof was now compromised. His partners in Londwhinium controlled the city’s equestrian triumvirate governor Blueblood, a disgraced prince with a penchant for interspecies romance.

In exchange for feeding his lustful libido, the governor provided the forged documents he and his partners relied on to ensure the smooth transfer of slaves into the Domain of Earth. As long as the slaves were continually being moved, the doomhound Second ensured he and his partners received their cut of the profits. All in all, it was a very tidy arrangement. But now Lady Zephyr had it in her mind to drop the hammer on the slavers in hopes of breaking their backs, or at least seriously hampering their movements within the realm.

Normally this wouldn’t have been an issue, with a word to his partners in Londwhinium he could easily give the Maelstrom a few token victories as he drew back the slavers’ activities, all the while making himself even wealthier. But there was a problem, the griffin she and her bastard offspring had freed was formerly a prisoner he’d passed along to fill the agreed upon quotas.

The griffin in question had been a dissident from some far flung village near the hinterlands of Autumn, somefeather who thought himself above his station and had dared complain to the council regarding the amount of taxes his betters had seen fit to extract from his business in order to cover one the levies. An irony if he’d ever heard of one, because protesting the tax designed to prevent slavery, had been the selfsame cause of his becoming a slave.

But now he was free, speaking all manner of things, making up completely uncorroborated claims and accusations against the august members of the council, unnecessarily dredging up the past, and generally making a nuisance of himself by prompting Lady Zephyr to ask all sorts of inconvenient and uncomfortable questions. Questions which if looked into closely could spell disaster and ruin for everyfeather involved.

Glaring at the griffin who dared disrupt the order and prosperity that the great clans were currently enjoying, if he possessed the power, he’d have snuffed out the griffin without a second thought. Why couldn’t the feather simply be grateful that Lady Zephyr had bothered rescuing him at all and be silent, instead of pushing his beak into places it had no business being.

“Councilor Johan,” Lady Zephyr’s said, interrupting his thoughts. Her fierce and melodic voice was laced with equal parts of her fury and displeasure, and he knew that he needed to tread carefully with her lest a single misstep cause him misfortune. “Can you explain how this could have possibly happened?”

“I’m not quite sure what you mean, Lady Zephyr,” the councilor answered, slowly tapping his talons together.

Fixing her steely eyed gaze on him, she looked him right into his grey eyes. “As Master of Laws,” she said, pointing a talon accusingly at him. “You oversee our prisons. How could a griffin possibly be stolen from right under your beak and sold into slavery undetected?”

Knowing he needed to perform damage control, he lowered his head to her in contrition. “My lady, forgive me,” he said, trying to assuage her anger. “The failure to protect the prisons from the slavers is mine. Perhaps they have a feather on the inside, or are using their magic to steal them away from us.”

“Councilor, I expect answers,” she said, looking towards the rest of the council and pointing her talon towards each of them. “And that goes for everyfeather else. I expect a solution to this slaver problem which has plagued us for far too long.”

“We could raise more levies,” Councilor Johan suggested, hoping his old standby would buy them enough time to find a new way to escape their goddess’s expectation that they put an end to the slaver chicknapping once and for all.

“The realm can scarcely afford the levies we have in place now!” objected the Master of Coin Councilor Radjek, a rather heavyset griffin with dark green plumage and a greasy tan coat who was rapidly flicking the beads of his abacus back and forth with his talon. “Perhaps we could demand that the Arcanum Bank grant us a loan with favorable terms. The Slave King does owe us for this slight.”

When she heard him make mention of her former lover and the father of her griffin-half son, she pursed her beak. The idea of facing him so soon after he’d married another was too painful to bear. Shaking her head, she looked towards the rotund griffin. “Councilor Radjek,” she said, impatiently tapping her talon against the stone table in front of her. “While useful, additional bits to fund more levies is a mere bandage to this festering wound. We need more than a temporary solution to this problem.”

Noticing her reticence to engage the Slave King in any meaningful way, Councilor Johan frowned. Before she and her son had returned from the Domain of Earth, it had been so easy to keep the goddess distracted. Previously whenever he’d wanted to distract her, all he’d had to do was mention some small detail about the Lord of Earth, and Lady Zephyr would be distracted for days, sometimes even weeks. But now that she was focused on this so called slavery emergency, he suspected that those old tricks might no longer be sufficient.

He suspected before long he’d need to contact his partners in Londwhinium and the Neo Vale to discuss a standby plan, until he could manage to find something more pressing to occupy her attention. But what could he possibly do? Her new found zealous desire to stamp out slavery had come out of the blue, and unless he could offer his goddess something more pressing, he was sure that all they would discuss into the foreseeable future would be ways of destroying his lucrative trade with Second and the others.

“And why should we bear the burden and cost of stamping out those craven slavers alone, Lady Zephyr?” a sharp beaked, middle aged griffin demanded, resting his slate grey eyes on the other nations represented within one of the many gem studded murals adorning the walls of the council chamber. Lifting his talon, he pointed accusingly towards Londwhinium and Marelantis. “Certainly if they desired, the princesses could abolish their subject’s abhorrent behavior with but a word, if they ever deigned to leave their ivory towers that is. And let’s not forget the Lawgiver’s part in all this. His knights still patrol the roads do they not, or has he and his legions utterly lost any nerve they might have once had for a good scrap?”

“Councilor Elrik…” Lady Zephyr warned, not caring for her subordinate’s belligerent tone, yet feeling relieved that somefeather else in the room had broached the possibility of seeking assistance from their neighbors with this worrying issue. “Celestia has assured me that she’s doing everything within the law to put a stop to the part that the ponies are playing in feathernapping my subjects. As for Lord Triton, with few exceptions his knights are mainly seaponies.”

Councilor Elrik simply rolled his eyes and snorted when he heard her defending her fellow deities against his accusations. “Lady Zephyr,” he said, pointing at the Slave King’s stylized image on the map. “As the Master of Mediation it is my responsibility to seek redress against those that have harmed us. And few have harmed us more than your lover the Slave King. So tell me this, why do you keep binding our wings when it comes to dealing with the South? If you’re being serious in your desire to stop the predation upon our citizens, shouldn’t we fall upon his interests with all the fury of the tempest?”

Councilor Johan, lightly chuckled to himself. For a diplomat, the red plumed Master of Mediation certainly enjoyed cutting right to heart of the matter. Judging by how reluctant Lady Zephyr seemed to be in answering him, he now knew the perfect plan to keep his goddess distracted until an alternate arrangement might be found.

“My lady, I agree with him,” Councilor Johan said, lowering his head towards her in supplication. “We should apply some pressure against the Slave King, to show him that we won’t take the chicknapping and enslavement of our people laying down.”

“Capital idea, Councilor Johan!” the burly and heavily scarred, one eyed Master of Spears shouted, pounding the stone table in front of him with his talon. “I say a little retribution is in order. We’ll show those dishonorable ponies and mudslinger thugs that griffins are to be feared and respected once more.”

“And how exactly do you expect to pay for this little adventure of yours, General Ansgar?” Councilor Radjek asked, rapidly flicking the beads of his abacus back and forth with his plump talons. “We need coin more than avenging our wounded national pride. Lady Zephyr, I implore you, allows us to press the Arcanum Bank for a favorable loan. Once our coffers are flush with bits, we’ll have the ability to deal meaningfully with the slaver problem.”

“Lady Zephyr, ignore that bloated coward,” General Ansgar said, sneering dismissively at the Master of Coin. “The money counter would have us crawling on our bellies begging for bits, instead of taking what is ours by right! Give me ten thousand spears, and I swear by the first egg that I’ll make every last diamond dog and pony for a generation flinch at the mere mention of a shadow overhead.”

“You are a fool of the highest order, general, if you think you can succeed where Lord Ouroboros and his flights of dragons failed,” Councilor Elrik said, before drinking heavily from his wine goblet. “Lady Zephyr, we should seek out our allies to the west. Lord Raiden’s sages are the greatest legal minds in all Equestria, with their wisdom to aid us I’m sure we can make an airtight legal case against Princess Celestia, Lord Triton, and the Slave King, when you make our demands for compensation to the Pantheon.”

Lady Zephyr sighed as she contemplated her councilors’ recommendations. Of the three suggestions Councilor Radjek’s was the most sensible. Of late her domain’s finances were severely lacking, whether it was due to the banditry out in the badlands that was choking off the trade routes or corruption from within she didn’t know. An infusion of bits would go a long way towards fixing many of the issues her people were facing. They could afford to lower taxes for one, while increasing patrols along the border.

But there was the issue of facing him again. She was fairly sure that if she asked the Slave King for this boon that he’d readily grant it. In fact after what had happened between them during their last meeting in the Spirit Realm, she was almost certain that he’d outright give her the bits. Normally she would have been delighted to have an excuse to see him once more, but he was married now, and seeing him receiving affection from somefeather else would be more than her aching heart could bear.

General Ansgar’s request to be granted the full strength of her army to harass the Domain of Earth’s interests was a provocative one. Part of her desired to grant his request and lead the first charge herself. In an earlier age should would have readily agreed to it without hesitation. Back when she’d been consorting with Lord Darkpaw she’d allowed her griffins to raid his domain as they pleased, but once the Slave King had agreed to become her lover they’d had a silent agreement to not interfere with each other’s domains. A policy which up until now, she’d been happy to keep.

She desired retribution for this crime against her people, but found it difficult agreeing to harm him. She supposed that part of her still wished to join with him, to be at his side once more, to return to the way things used to be between them. But she knew that could never be, not for centuries at least. Princess Luna was his wife now, and she was sure she was doing everything in her power to win his heart. Which was another thing to consider before committing themselves to war with the Domain of Earth.

The Domain of Earth now belonged to Princess Luna, as much as to its lord and her husband. By attacking the Slave King, they would in essence be attacking her as well, and once Luna was entangled in their little conflict, her sister, Princess Celestia would inevitably be pulled in. Which was almost a certainty once they commenced their attacks on the pony slavers chicknapping her citizens.

Which made Councilor Elrik’s proposal all the more attractive. Surely once she’d laid out her lawsuit before the Pantheon, they would vote in favor of granting an injunction against Lord Triton, Princess Celestia, and the Slave King. But in truth, she didn’t look forward to suing them. Lord Triton hated slavery more than anyfeather else she knew, but very few of his knights were willing to venture so far from the Western Sea. Princess Celestia had always been a fair and reasonable feather, and she hated souring the good relations their two domains enjoyed. As for the Slave King, centuries ago he’d issued a moratorium on pressing anyfeather into slavery, and as far as she knew he’d never broken it.

But regardless of her feelings on the matter, her people were suffering because of her inaction, and she owed it to them to make things right once more. Although he might not be able to put a stop to the slave trafficking that happened so far from his borders, Lord Triton held a controlling interest in the city of Shadehoof, the very place where the griffin she’d freed had been smuggled from. His inability to stop the smuggling near the heart of his power, was proof enough that he was either blind to the practice or powerless to stop it.

Princess Celestia had time and again assured her whenever she’d brought up the matter of the abduction of her citizens by pony slavers, that stopping the slave smuggling within her domain was one of her top priorities. But for all her promises and assurances, the slave smuggling hadn’t been stopped yet. In the interests of harmony she’d forbade her griffins from raiding the border towns and caravans, lest they receive a reprisal personally from her, yet Celesta hadn’t done her the same courtesy.

Although the Slave King wasn’t actively harming her, his insistence in continuing the terrible practice of slavery was driving these crimes against her and her people. She sympathized with his need for the labor, but even though her own domain had its own issues with wealth and resources, she hadn’t resorted to raiding and pillaging her neighbors. And though she loved him greatly, until he refused to buy her griffins, for the sake of her people she supposed they would have to be at odds with one another.

“Lady Zephyr, have you made a decision?” Councilor Johan asked, hoping that she’d taken the bait.

“Yes I have,” she said, leaning back into her seat.

“Shall I write up a draft to the Arcanum Bank then?” Councilor Radjek asked, salivating at the thought of getting his talons on so many bits.

“I think not, councilor,” General Ansgar said, resting his talons on the table in front of him. “A war, the likes of which haven’t been seen for an age is about to commence.”

“Then I’m grateful, warmonger,” Councilor Elrik said, drinking deeply from his goblet. “That the decision doesn’t lie with you.”

“Councilors, stop this pointless squabbling,” Councilor Johan demanded, offering his fellow griffins a stern look. “We’ve each made our case to Lady Zephyr, and she’s made her decision regarding the matter.”

Lady Zephyr worriedly tapped her talon against her armrest as she looked each member of the council in the eye. Her next words to them would decide the fate of griffinkind across Equestria, and she wanted them to know she wasn’t making her choice lightly. If she chose poorly, it would be her people, not her, that bore the brunt of the consequences of her words.

Pointing a talon towards the griffin she’d rescued from a decade of toil as a slave in the south, who had so patiently waited as the council debated what course of action to take, she gestured for him to stand. Looking into his eyes, and seeing only gratitude and his devotion reflected at her, reaffirmed to her that she was doing the just and proper thing. At peace with what she needed to do, she rose up from her seat, and prepared to address the council.

“Councilors, gentlefeathers, friends,” she said, offering her subject a look of gratitude for having given her the resolve to do right by her people. “While it might be tempting to seek out an easy solution to our problem, or give into our righteous anger in seeking redress against this grave injustice that has been hoisted onto our people by these unworthy villains. We shall act by the virtues that those who’ve harmed us so constantly preach.”

Pausing a moment to allow the weight of her words to sink into the council’s mind, she felt her heart beginning to soar above the turmoil that had mired her in despair and bound her with worry for far too long. “Princess Celestia has long advocated that those of us on the Pantheon should join with her on the path of Harmony,” she said, hoping that Celestia’s benevolence would be seen in the coming days. “It’s my hope that she joins with us as we seek to right this wrong.”

“Long has Lord Triton been a friend of all those who seek after nobility, temperance, and justice,” she said, allowing the force of her element to empower and sanctify her words with her divinity. “I know that if he’s the feather I’ve long known him to be, that he’ll be a champion to our cause.”

Thinking of the one she loved, she felt her resolve beginning to buckle and break. But then she remembered how grateful her griffin had been when she’d freed him from the shackles of his pony master, and let all her doubts go. “Some may rightfully consider the Slave King our enemy,” she said, feeling a sense of clarity she’d not known in nearly an age. “True he buys our people, enslaves them, uses them against their will. But he only buys what others are selling, our true enemies are those who so cravenly profit from others misery.”

“The Slave King respects strength and honesty above all else,” she said, hoping to persuade everyfeather present she was making the right choice. “Once we’ve revealed to him all the lies and deception these heartless fiends have used bringing slaves to him, he will act for us. When he sees the strength of our resolve, and the truth of our words, he will not be an enemy, but an ally in finally ending this tragedy once and for all.”

“We shall seek justice,” she said, finally free from all self-doubt and her inner turmoil. “Not in bits, as if buying our forgiveness made these crimes against us permissible. Neither in war, for our people have suffered enough grief and loss for ten lifetimes. But through the word of law. We shall bring a suit against those who’ve harmed us, and we finally receive the justice that has been denied us for so long.”

When he heard her words, Councilor Johan dug his talons deeply into his seat’s wooden armrests as he firmly gripped them. His worse fears were coming to pass, Lady Zephyr was seeking abolition, and was planning on eliciting the aid of the three deities most able to help her.

Knowing that he needed to buy himself and his partners some time, he decided to do what he could to stall her. “Lady Zephyr,” he said, hoping to dissuade, or at least slow her down from seeking after this fool’s errand. “We are ill prepared to issue a lawsuit against the three most powerful deities on the Pantheon. And think of the consequences if the suit fails, your standing and prestige with your peers would be harmed, and relations with our neighbors might never recover.”

“Then it’s a price we’ll have to pay,” she replied, fully determined that nofeather else in her domain would ever suffer the indignity of having been made somefeathers slave. “At least then, Councilor Johan, we’ll know who our true friends are.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of…” he muttered, worried for the first time that his part in all this might finally be discovered.

“Councilor Elrik,” Lady Zephyr said, impatient to begin the process of forming their lawsuit. “I want you to form a preliminary draft of our grievances against Princess Celestia, Lord Triton, and the Slave King. Then I’d like you to send me a copy so I have something to show Lord Raiden when we ask him for his aid.”

“Of course, Lady Zephyr,” the councilor said, emptying his goblet of wine and cracking his talons in preparation of drafting the document.

“Councilors,” she said, standing up from her seat. “I’ll expect your full cooperation in this matter. General Ansgar, I’d like the army in a state of readiness. And Councilor Radjek, I’d like you to look into where the bits for our subjects have been going.”

“Of course, Maelstrom. Your will shall be done. As you wish, Lady Zephyr,” they said in unison.

“Then this council is adjourned,” she said, banging a large obsidian orb of arcanum, against the stone table, causing thunder and lightning to spark from its ebony surface. “If anyfeather needs me, I’ll be dining with my son.”

“As you wish, Lady Zephyr,” Councilor Johan said, bowing low to her.

Watching the Lady of Air exiting the council chambers, he turned to look at his fellow councilors. Each unwittingly sowing the seeds of their own destruction. Foreseeing the possibility of such a disaster occurring, he’d taken steps to ensure that everyfeather concerned would have something to lose. Over the years, he’d seen to it that each of them had been personally benefiting from his joint business venture with his partners. Ensuring that if he fell to Lady Zephyr’s beak and talons, they too would fall to her fury.

Excusing himself from his fellows, he made his way towards his personal chambers. He had to act quickly if he wanted to warn his business partners. Walking through the dark passages that led to his personal quarters, he began plotting his next move.

*****

He woke up refreshed and well rested. Truly he’d not known such a blissful rest in all his forty plus years of life. Looking up at the night sky overhead, he wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed. Although a cool breeze blew across his face, he didn’t feel cold. In fact he felt a comforting warmth burning within him. Stretching out his arms, he discovered to his dismay that his companion was missing and he was laying alone in their makeshift bed.

Trying to remember what had happened between them before he fell asleep, all he could remember was the great hunger that had gnawed away at him like a hungry rat on a flesh bare bone. Although his memory was dim, he was overwhelmed with a sense of rightness in his being, and decided that whatever had transpired between them had been for the best.

Wondering what she’d thought about what had happened between them, he thought that she was probably either delighted or worried. Remembering her sorrow when she nearly lost herself in her eagerness to share her magic with him, he wondered if she was feeling any regrets about what had transpired between them. She’d been nothing but kind towards him, had greatly aided him, and so he didn’t want her suffering for any reason on his behalf.

Thinking back to when he’d first met his companion, and how worried he was about her intentions towards him. But now he was at peace with himself. Although he considered her his friend, and felt nothing but gratitude towards her, he knew that he didn’t love her in the way that she hoped he did. Before, the idea of loving anyone so soon after learning about their deaths nearly felt unbearable. But now his aching heart didn’t quite find the idea so horrid. In fact if he was destined to fall in love with her or another, he’d not fight it and would accept it if such was to be his fate.

Enjoying the silken caress of the soft sheets that made up his bed, he was amazed by how energized he felt. Truly he felt stronger then he’d felt in ages, even stronger than the years he’d lived before his enslavement. He wondered if it had something to do with the food he’d been eating, the goddess he’d been traveling with, or even the circumstances of his resuscitation.

He still wasn’t sure how he should feel about it. As far as he was concerned, he was the man who’d suffered for a decade in chains, who’d had a good friend and wonderful daughter taken away from him before their time. The man who was swallowed up by a hole in the ground, falling from the sky, and landing in this unfriendly place. The man who’d lost everything, and wandered the dark paths of the earth utterly lost and all alone.

But there was his double. A man who’d suffered as greatly or more than he had ever had. A man who’d succumbed to his hate and fury. Was he destined to loose himself to the same rage that had claimed his twin’s soul? He wondered what sort of man he’d become, was he truly the monster he’d heard described by his companion? Wishing to atone for all the blood his other self had spilt in anger, he vowed to one day confront himself, and make him answer for all the evil he’d committed.

He wanted answers. Although horrified by it, he understood the reasons behind the destruction of the Diamond Vale. But it was everything else that had come afterwards, that he had trouble coming to terms with. He didn’t understand the reasons for continuing the slavery they had both suffered under. The cruel, unfeeling, efficiency of his iron fisted reign. The cold hearted rejection of his children, his own flesh and blood. Children that he would’ve been grateful to have and to hold, if he’d but had the chance.

He wondered if his double had ever lain in bed like this and mourned what he’d become. Did they share the same hopes and fears, or had the hard centuries slowly ground away what little humanity he’d once possessed. Part of him wished to cast aside his darker half as someone who was utterly irredeemable and beyond saving, but that’s not what she’d want. Little Bleu’s one hope had been rescuing him from the chains that were slowly killing him, and she’d be broken hearted if she learned that her beloved father had saved his life only to have lost his soul in the end.

It was then that he decided that he not only owed it to himself, but to the daughter they both loved, to save him from the darkness that had corroded his soul. He knew that if he felt regret and remorse for these sins, his other half could as well. Perhaps that was the reason for his being, to give the one who had utterly lost everything, an opportunity to save himself. Not only would he prove that he was not destined to be the monster beneath the cloak and crown, he would show himself that if he chose to he could be a good man once more.

“Andrew, the darkness shall have you no longer,” he said, vowing to make things right once more. “I swear it.”

“What do you swear, Elrey love?” a warm feminine voice asked. Her voice carried the same radiant warmth he felt burning within him. A warmth that brought him comfort and happiness.

“Ah, Suzaku, you were missing when I woke up,” he said, happy to see his absent companion once more. “I was wondering where you had gotten off to.”

“I thought you might like some time to yourself after last night, love,” she said, looking away from him with concern and worry etched into her otherwise beautiful face.

“Why would you think that, Suzaku,” he said, laying in the bed and rolling his head towards her. Feeling the warmth within him burning ever hotter.

“Love, I…” she started, but failed to find the words she wished to express herself. “What happened between us last night…”

“Was simply one friend helping another,” he answered, offering her an understanding smile.

“Really?” Suzaku asked, relieved that he bore no ill will towards her.

“Really, Suzaku,” he said, spreading his arms, inviting her to share a hug.

“Elrey, thank you,” she whispered, accepting his embrace as she wrapped her fiery wings around him.

“But I do have some questions,” he said, running his fingers through her feathers.

“Of course, dear,” she cheerfully said, snuggling against him. “What would you like to know?”

“Last night, we did something together, I’m not quite sure how to describe it,” he said, enjoying his companion’s familiar warmth. “This warmth I feel, it’s like a piece of you is within me.”

“That’s because there is a bit of my divinity intertwined with you,” she explained, looking into his warm brown eyes.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” he said, wondering if she was being literal or metaphorical with her answer.

“Elrey, last night our souls touched,” she said, placing her wing against his open palm. Running a feather along his palm and fingers she continued. “Love, once two souls become one, they inexorably change the other.”

“But how, I’m nothing like you or the Slave King,” he protested, wondering how any of what she said was possible. “I’m nothing special, just an ordinary man.”

When she heard his protest, she released a melodic laugh. “Oh, Elrey love,” she cooed, grabbing his face with her wings and gently touching her forehead against his. “There’s nothing ordinary about you, my dear.”

He considered her words. He supposed in such a fantastical world as Equestria, a man like himself might be considered extraordinary. But he suspected she meant something more than his race. Perhaps she considered him the Slave King’s equal, someone who was bound for great things. But beyond their shared origin and past, he had trouble seeing himself as anyone more than King the man.

“Suzaku, last night I felt a hunger I’ve never known before,” he said, wondering why he’d been driven to seek her out. “Even now, I can feel it deep within me, like an itch that just won’t go away.”

“Elrey love,” she said, stroking him with her wing. “It’ll be all right. You’re simply maturing.”

“Maturing?” he asked, arching his brow in confusion. “I’d be consider middle aged by the reckoning of my people.”

“Yes, love, but you’re not quite a wayfarer anymore,” she said, leaning up against him.

“I’m not?” he asked, unable to understand what she could possibly mean. “But I don’t really feel any different.”

“Elrey,” she softly said, hoping to soothe his fears. “You share more than just memories with the Slave King. Each of you bathed within the waters of the Well of Eternity.”

Suddenly he understood why he’d felt so drawn to her last night. Who he thought he was had died centuries ago in the cave alongside his family. He was in a dream, living a pleasant lie until he’d finally woken up. He wasn’t King, Elrey, or whatever other alias he decided to adopt. He was the Slave King, a monstrous tyrant destined to one day be consumed by rage and hate.

“Suzaku, am I going to become him?” he asked, worried that there was nothing he could do to prevent himself from succumbing to the same darkness that plagued his other half.

“No, love,” she replied, holding the frightened wayfarer to her breast. “Your choices are yours, and yours alone to make.”

“Thank you, Suzaku,” he said, relieved he wasn’t destined to repeat his twin’s mistakes.

“Elrey,” she said, looking unto his eyes. “When our souls touched, I saw that yours was one full of hope, compassion, and light. You needn’t worry about becoming the Slave King, not unless you choose to take the first steps along that dark and lonely path.”

“But, Suzaku, then what am I maturing into?” he asked, wondering what the future held in store for him as he felt her spark of divinity burning within him.

“You’ll discover that for yourself soon, love,” she said, getting up from the bed and pulling him to his feet. “Now climb on my back, Elrey. If we leave now, we’ll reach the Western Sea by this afternoon.”

Nodding in agreement, he folded up the blankets he’d been resting on, placed them in the bags carrying their provisions, and sat them down beside Suzaku. Satisfied that everything had been packed, she unfurled her wings and released her magic. Instantly the bags caught fire, before disappeared into ash.

“You know, Suzaku, I’ll never get used to how your magic works,” Elrey said as he climbed onto her back. Feeling her magic grab hold of him, he felt his heart begin to race as she pumped her wings in preparations of taking off. When she leapt into the air, he felt his heart sink into his stomach, and held onto her tight.

Enjoying the feeling of his arms around her, Suzaku looked up at her wayfarer passenger. “Fear not, love,” she said, pumping her wings a few times to gain more altitude. “If you ever fall, I will always be there to catch you.”

Feeling the spark within him, he smiled, reassured by her promise. “I know, Suzaku,” he said, finally enjoying the ride for the first time. “I know.”

*****

The Lonely Road that ran from the Neo Vale to Shadehoof was aptly named she thought. Hardly anyfeather traveled this way, not unless they were slavers of course. As the official harper for the Slave King’s court, she knew this path intimately, and had traveled it often when she was called upon by the city’s triumvirate council of governors to mediate on the Slave King’s behalf.

Normally she could travel this path in a few hours by following the abundant shadow ley lines that ran through the Domain of Earth. However not all members of her escort had experience in traveling in this manner, so they were forced to walk the entirety of the way. Stretching out her arms as she walked, her wings flapped impatiently. Looking at her companions, she had a seapony chevaleresse of the Lawgiver, an enslaved reindeer battlemage who served as the Slave King’s personal cupbearer, and the reindeer’s charge a beautiful diamond dog bitch who held more secrets then she could count.

Some of her party could fly, like the reindeer, while the others could tap into the shadows to travel by ley line, but with the exception of herself, nofeather in their party possessed the power to do both. Sighing with disappointment, she swung her arms back and forth as she tried whiling away the time as they took step after step towards the port of Shadehoof.

The city of Shadehoof was unique in that nofeather outright controlled it. The city straddled three domains, and by common consent of the three ruling powers, namely Princess Celestia, Lord Triton, and the Slave King, it supposedly stood as a symbol of unity and harmony in Equestria.

More like an iniquitous den of overly proud, thieving scoundrels, she thought to herself.

Originally the city had been a contested port of entry for ships returning from the Zebrakan which wanted to unload their goods to the three main trade routes that lead through Equestria. The road North to the Golden Eyrie and Winter, the road East to Londwhinium and the Domain of Fire, and the road South to the Diamond Vale.

However that all changed when the Slave King came to power. The young deity had recognized the value of the port’s location as a trade hub into inner Equestria and its neighboring domains, and sought to bring it firmly under his control. But due to the treaties he held with the Pantheon, he wasn’t able to outright annex the city for his own. Originally the port had lain within the spitting distance of his northern border, and so the Slave King hatched a clever scheme to bring all the commerce passing through the town under his control. If he couldn’t outright conquer the port, he’d subvert it.

Thus the Slave King built a superior competing port within the boundaries of his domain. For a time his plan worked, the ships enticed by his port’s superior services and lucrative slave markets, abandoned the Shadehoof docks. Of course, Lord Triton and Princess Celestia didn’t take this upstart’s challenge sitting down. Within the decade they’d built up their own ports in competition with his. Offering the merchants more favorable taxes and port fees, trade moved through the city like cheap wine in a seedy tavern. Seeking ever greater profitability, the merchant ships abandoned the Slave King’s port in favor of Celestia’s and Triton’s.

Annoyed that they thought to outwit him, the Slave King built an even grander city and better docks, in the hopes of drawing merchants away from the competition. In response, they built up their own ports and facilities, which prompted the Slave King to act in kind. Eventually both Princess Celestia and Lord Triton, combined their ports together in the hope of finally wresting control of the valuable trade route from their rival.

Eventually both competing cities grew in size, until they finally met each other on the Equestrian-Earth Domain border. In the end, the merchants used the ports in tandem, smuggling goods from port to port as it pleased them. In the process, everyfeather but the smugglers were losing profit and revenue. But nofeather could anticipate what happened next. To the everyfeather’s amazement, the Slave King approached his rivals and offered them a unique compromise.

In exchange for allowing the slave trade to run unimpeded in the city, the Slave King would allow everyfeather access to his ports. At first both Princess Celestia and Lord Triton protested that their city should be tainted with the sin of slavery. But the Slave King pointed out that as things stood now, slaves along with other goods were being smuggled with impunity, and unless they joined together the smuggling would only get worse.

Knowing that he had a point, both Princess Celestia and Lord Triton reluctantly agreed to his terms, so long as slaves weren’t being sold in their parts of the city. The Slave King readily agreed to this, provided that he was guaranteed they wouldn’t interfere with the slave trade within the city. In the end, the three deities decided that no one domain should control the city. Instead, they formed a triumvirate to oversee the city’s rule consisting of a governor representing each domain, ensuring that no one feather controlled the city and its lucrative trade routes.

When the agreement had been reached, it had been touted and celebrated as a sign that soon slave smuggling would be no more and that harmony would finally take root in the South. However in the end, the Slave King had the last laugh. Within a century the port was firmly under his domain’s influence. Bits bearing the Slave King’s image flowed through the city like water corrupting all they touched like a cancer, ensuring that slaves from all domains could continue to be sold with impunity.

And thus did the shining exemplar of harmony fall to the greed and corruption of wicked ponies who cared more for bits then the wellbeing of their neighbors. Although both Lord Triton and Princess Celestia acknowledged that their pact with the Slave King was one born of necessity, it’s often that they cursed the Faustian bargain they made with him in the false hope of bringing an end to one problem only to have had a hoof in creating something far worse.

As a harper, Melody was well aware of the city’s dark history, and although she personally found the city and all it stood for distasteful, she couldn’t fault it for its usefulness. If one desired the rare, exotic, or forbidden, one simply had to peruse the city’s innumerable shady vendors and merchants stalls. From pitiful souls drowning in the sorrow of their enslavement, to bizarre and fantastical items of power, if it could be sold, chances were it could be found within the city’s grand market.

But as interesting as the grand market was, the reason for their westward journey to Shadehoof was securing passage on a ship that was heading north towards Autumn. Having traveled all over Equestria in her service to the Slave King, she was quite familiar with many a ship’s captain who frequented the port, most of whom would refrain from asking questions if they were paid well enough.

She supposed that going the long way to the Golden Eyrie was a prudent course of action, but any delays in their journey left them open to the dangers that the lands outside the Domain of Earth offered the Slave King’s servants. Not that she was afraid to face danger in her service to her father’s domain. Although she wasn’t as great a swordsfeather or skilled magic user as her sisters, she was still a competent warrior in her own right.

Her real concern was that they might not return home in time. Jormungandr had warned her that she needed to return the Elements of Harmony before the summer solstice, or all Equestria would face great peril. Ordinarily she would have advised him of the entirety of the Winding One’s warning, but with such serpentine treachery loose within the court, she knew very few that she could trust to be discreet with the knowledge.

Even now, her companions were completely unaware of the responsibility that Jormungandr had tasked her with. She’d decided that once they had reached the city and secured their passage north, that she’d tell the others. For now she decided, they would concentrate their efforts on reaching Shadehoof without incident. That changeling bastard was still unaccounted for, and she was slightly worried that they might want some revenge.

“How much further until we reach the city?” Chrysalis asked with a slight whine in her voice. They had been walking the Lonely Road for hours, and the changeling turned bitch was starting to feel the rigors of hard traveling within the pads of her paws.

“If you weren’t prepared for a little walking, bitch,” Dame Squall derisively said, annoyed that Chrysalis was already complaining about traveling less than a day into their journey. “Why on Equestria would you volunteer for such lengthy sojourn?”

“Listen here, you stuck up, seapony…” Chrysalis growled, wishing she could drop her disguise into something more convenient. She’d teach that seapony some respect then. She would have followed up with an insult towards her order, but before she could say anything, she was silenced by a hard look from her keeper, Gunhilde.

“Chrysalis,” she warned, hoping to stave off any hard feelings between the two before their tempers got too heated. “I’m sure Dame Squall wasn’t questioning your dedication to our mission.”

Melody looked towards their seapony companion, before poking her in the ribs with her lute. “Yes, Dame Squall,” she said, giving her a wink. “I’m sure you weren’t trying to unduly antagonize her.”

Getting the hint, the chevaleresse lowered her head and sighed. “Please forgive me, Chrysalis,” she said, biting back her tongue against the insult she’d received by the bitch’s fin. “I’m sure you’ll prove useful during our travels, your lack of stamina not withstanding.”

Chrysalis gave the seapony mare a hard look, annoyed by her backpawed compliment. “You know my lack of stamina wouldn’t be an issue, if we could travel the ley lines to our destination,” she said, giving her a smug grin. “If only we weren’t being hampered by somehound’s lacking skills.”

Dame Squall sharply inhaled, before looking away from her. Releasing her breath, she slowly counted to twenty. She could feel her anger beginning to rise, but was determined not to allow it to rule her. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, she decided to place some distance between herself and the bitch.

“Melody,” she said, drawing on her magical reserves. “I’d like to go on ahead of us. To make sure the road up ahead is safe.”

Looking at the seapony, Melody gave her a sympathetic look, before turning towards Chrysalis. Those two seemed to have hard feelings towards each another. But she’d seen them fighting together against a common foe. When it really counted, they had come together and fought for their survival. She was sure the two of them would come together again if they were reminded of their common purpose.

“But what if we’re being watched, and our pursuers are simply waiting for an opening to attack?” she asked, giving her a faux look of concern as she falsely professed her worry. “Maybe Gunhilde could go on ahead of us, if you’re so worried. Are you willing to, Gunhilde?”

Seeing what she was trying to do, Gunhilde nodded her head in agreement. “Of course, Melody,” she said, offering her a conspiratorial wink. Although she wanted to hold her magic in reserve in case there actually was trouble, if it kept those two from each others throats, the magic she would expend in flying would be well spent. “I’ll see you all in a few hours. Behave yourself, Chrysalis.”

Before either Chrysalis or Dame Squall could reply, Gunhilde had shook her antlers and pounded the earth twice with her hoof, before leaping up into the air. With a joyous whoop, the reindeer battlemage galloped away on the winds of magic, leaving them behind in her wake.

“Show off…” Chrysalis muttered, envious of her keeper’s ability to fly. Of course in her natural form she also possessed flight, but transforming would expose the Slave King and herself, and she was determined not to allow that to happen.

“Wow, it sure got quiet all of the sudden,” Melody said aloud, offering each of them a cheery smile. Pulling out her lute, she began plucking at the strings as her feet kept the beat of her song. Opening her mouth, she began singing a lively tune.

There’s a road calling you to stray…

Step by step pulling you away…

Under moon and stars…

Take the road no matter how far…

Seeing that her companions were feeling reluctant to join her, she began singing the second verse.

Where it leads no one ever knows…

Don’t look back follow where it goes…

Far beyond the sun…

Take the road wherever it runs…

Turning around and walking backwards, she could see that her traveling companions were beginning to walk in time with the music, and she could see their ears perk up in anticipation of the next verse. Starting the chorus, she offered each of them an invitation to join with her in song.

The road goes on…

Ever, ever on…

Hill by hill…

Mile by mile…

Field by field…

Stile by stile…

The road goes on…

Ever, ever on…

The road goes on…

Moor by moor….

Glen by glen….

Vale by vale…

Fen by fen…

The road goes on…

Ever, ever on…

Unable to keep silent any longer, Chrysalis joined in and sang her refrain.

One more mile, and then it’s time to eat…

A little friendship, so succulent and sweet…

To the farthest shore, take the road a hundred miles more…

A mare’s first crush, tickled from her dream…

A stallion’s lust, sweeter than cream…

Far beyond the sun…

Take the road wherever it runs…

Caught up in their music, Dame Squall joined their duet and sang.

See the road go past your doorstep…

Calling for your fins to stray…

Just like the sea’s fast and flowing currents…

It will sweep them far away…

Now that the three were fully caught up within the song’s thrall. They sang together without a care in the world, allowing their souls to soar on the harmony of their shared song.

Just beyond the far horizon…

Lies a waiting world unknown…

Like the dawn its beauty beckons…

With a wonder all its own…

Over mountain and valley, and pasture and meadow…

Stretching unending, for mile after mile…

Through fenland and moorland, and shoreline and canyon…

Bordered by hurdle, and hedgerow and stile…

As the three traveled together, they stepped in time with the music, and allowed it to carry them forward towards their destination. As she plucked the notes on her lute, Melody offered her companions a grin, happy that she’d been able to help come together if only for the brief length of their shared song.

But unbeknownst to them, the owner of a pair of sapphire eyes lay concealed from view, and watching them as they made their way along the Lonely Road to Shadehoof.

*****

He sat alone at the table, unable to summon the appetite to enjoy his exquisitely prepared meal. He’d thought to have his guests join him for dinner, but after what had happened earlier that day, he’d possessed little desire to share anypony’s company. He’d sent them to their rooms so they would be well rested for the next phase of his plan to indoctrinate them. However, he felt little joy in anticipation of breaking them further.

Although he was now the undisputed king of the crystal ponies, he’d just learned that he was nothing more than a disposable pawn of his master back in the Neo Vale. The revelation had been a bitter pill to swallow, for such a fate was the destiny of the plebs, of lesser creatures, not superior ponies such as him. But because he’d failed to prepare for his master’s treachery, he was now stuck in his snare.

He supposed it should have come as no surprise at his master’s treachery. After all, each of them were traitors to their supposed master, the Slave King. But to be told he’d been setup to fail, it was almost more than his pride could bear. Such a thing wasn’t supposed to happen to him! He who was king. He who had been nothing but loyal to Second, and had always performed his role flawlessly.

But now he’d been cast aside, and thanks to his eagerness in bringing down his rule on the backs of his new subjects, there was nopony he could turn to for aid. He dare not approach the Slave King, not unless he wanted to spend at least a century in the Cavern of Torment. And thanks to his administrative style, there was nopony he could trust to turn to for advice. All his subjects either hated or feared him, and would readily betray him to the Slave King for vengeance.

“My lord, is the soup not to your liking?” he heard his plaything, Topaz ask.

He had taken to dining with her shortly after his ascension as the king of the crystal ponies. It used to bring him such joy, watching her suffer as he abused and debased her former subjects in front of her. Oh now, how the horseshoe was on the other hoof, he lamented bitterly to himself. If she knew his predicament, he was certain that she would gloat. He could only thank creation that she’d been rendered unconscious by Bazzt Zzzt’s venom.

Thinking about how that bug had fooled him, set his face into a scowl that could curdle milk. If the changeling had managed to elude all his wards undetected, even if he was inclined to, there was nopony he could trust. Now everypony was potentially a spy for Second. He cursed the day he’d ever agreed to work with the doomhound. He’d once belonged to a minor noble house in Londwhinium, but the family’s fortune had faded, and desperate to reclaim his family’s prestige and power, he’d sought out his fortune elsewhere.

It was there in a tavern in the Neo Vale that he’d met his master for the first time. The doomhound had almost seemed as if he’d been waiting for him. Eager to make the acquaintance of somepony so powerful, he’d introduced himself and his reasons for traveling to the Domain of Earth. He’d hoped to find his fortune serving the Slave King in some capacity. He knew that ponies, let alone unicorns, willing to serve the Slave King were a rarity, and he felt confident that his magical abilities, fighting skills, and battlefield experience commanding ponies would impress the Slave King sufficiently, to guarantee him at least a small commission.

After they had spoken at length, Second had made him an attractive offer, agree to serve him in ‘The Order of the Shadow’, and he would see to it that all his dreams of power were fulfilled. At first, it had seemed too good to be true. But Second had been true to his word, and he quickly rose up through the ranks. Of course he knew had he not been quite so useful, his master would have discarded him without a second thought. But such was life in the South, and for him it had been a glorious one.

“My lord, shall I tell the servants to bring out the next course?” Topaz asked from the other side of the table.

Turning away from his uneaten soup, he stared at her with his red eyes. Normally the mare was easily cowed, but for the first time ever, she was unintimidated by his bale filled glare. He felt a dark rage enter his heart. How dare that whore refuse to remember her place! he inwardly seethed, furious that even she was no longer afraid of him. He was tempted to throw her from the table with his magic, and use her until she remembered that he owned her. However he didn’t dare, he needed her alive, lest the changeling take her place.

Furious at his own impotence, he offered her a flat look. “If it pleases you,” he growled, wishing that he could slay that changeling.

Topaz offered him a small smile, and rang a bell, signaling for the servants to clear the table for the second course, a salad. He said nothing as the ponies who served him cleared the table and placed a salad of mixed fruits and greens in front of him. It was a mix of crystal berries, walnuts, and watercress, his favorite. However his appetite refused to return, and the salad sat on his plate undisturbed. He didn’t even try poking the dish with his magic. Looking at Topaz, he frowned when he saw how much she was enjoying her meal. Enjoyment that should have been by all rights his!

During the rest of their meal, he sat in silence as she continued asking him if his food wasn’t to his liking. He said nothing, only assenting his permission to allow for the next course to proceed. All the while she wore the same serene smile as she ate. He wondered what had happened to change her. Perhaps the changeling’s venom had addled her brain, or maybe she was even possibly Bazzt Zzzt, but he had no way of telling for sure.

Once the final course of their dinner had been cleared away, they left the table together to retire to their shared quarters. Normally after dinner, he’d always enjoyed taking his liberties with the former queen, but now the prospect held little interest for him. Topaz no longer seemed to fear him, and his own fears regarding his uncertain future made any further attempts at beating her into submission utterly unappealing.

He said nothing as she stood expectantly at the foot of his bed, instead ignoring her as he silently disrobed. Placing his silken cloak inside his wardrobe, he felt hollow and empty. It was entirely unfair, it was supposed to be good to be king, and not like how it had all turned out. Removing his armor, he placed it on its stand. Although its heft had been removed from his shoulders, he still felt a great weight pressing down upon him.

Approaching his bed, his placed his crown upon his nightstand, and slid beneath the soft sheets. Lowering the lights with his magic, he tried to close his eyes and forget all about this harrowing day, but found he couldn’t. He could feel her eyes burrowing into his skull. He tried ignoring her, but was unsuccessful. In the darkened room, she was still there.

Topaz silently approached him, and looked down on the face of her tormentor. It felt cathartic seeing him so troubled. But she wasn’t after karmic justice for herself and her people. She had been presented with a unique opportunity to free them, and she would do whatever it took to make that happen.

Personally it felt revolting, knowing what was she was about to do with him. But to save them she would do it, damn the consequences. “My lord,” she softly said, kneeling before him.

“What is it?” he tersely muttered, wishing she would just go away.

“My lord, are you not well?” Topaz asked, with as much sincerity as she could muster for such a wicked creature.

“I’m fine, just trying to get some sleep,” he flatly replied, trying his best to hide the turmoil that lay within his heart.

“Do you not desire me anymore, my lord?” she demurely asked, biting back on the bile she felt asking him such a question.

“What?” he asked, confused by her concern. Of all the things she might say, concern for him and expressing a desire to share his bed was the last thing he’d have ever expected to hear pass from her lips.

“I was concerned, my lord, because you usually want me to serve you before you retire,” she said, looking up at him with all the desire she could muster.

“Bazzt Zzzt,” he growled, furious that the changeling thought to tease him further.

“No, my lord,” Topaz said, submissively lowering her head. “I’m not the changeling.”

"So you know…” Sombra muttered, wishing that he could kill the mare.

“Oh I know, my lord,” she breathily said, leaning closer to him.

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable by how forward Topaz was being, Sombra began scooting away from her. “What do you think you’re doing, slave?” he weakly demanded, suddenly feeling unsure and afraid.

Sweetly smiling at him, she climbed into the bed, and crawled next to him. Touching her muzzle to his, she lightly kissed his nose. “I thought we might renegotiate our little arrangement,” she said, lightly kissing him.

Dumbstruck, he said nothing as he felt her kissing him once more. Becoming annoyed, he narrowed his eyes in anger at her. Growling, he roughly pushed her off of him and climbed on top of her. “What game do you think you’re playing, slave?” he snarled, as he looked into her blue eyes

Saying nothing, Topaz licked her lips and softly kissed him. “I thought that maybe tonight we could play nicely with each other,” she suggestively said, flicking him lightly with her tail.

Sombra felt a deep longing within him when he looked at her. Her eyes possessed no anger towards him, only the promise of things to come. He remembered how lovely she’d looked when he first saw her sitting on her throne. She’d possessed a proud beauty then, something he’d enjoyed repeatedly plundering from her over the course of his reign. Slowly he’d broken her, until little more than a mere shadow remained of the once proud queen the mare had been.

He saw something similar now in her eyes, they held the same proud beauty she once possessed, but now they also held the same hunger for power he knew only too well. He suddenly felt himself becoming lost in those hungry eyes and from her heady scent that was gradually overwhelming all reason. Returning her impassioned kisses, he felt himself relax against her as she finally broke down all his defenses.

*****

Lying in bed next to his consort, he listened to her steady breathing. They had spent what seemed like hours together. At first he’d thought it was nothing but a trick at his expense, but the passion she’d shown him during their time together had won him over. Before she’d approached him, he’d felt so frustrated and angry. But now, even though he still had the same problems as before, things felt somewhat more manageable.

“My lord,” he heard her say.

“Yes, Topaz,” he replied, wondering what could have possibly possessed her to pursue him like this.

“Are you feeling better now?” she asked, turning to face him.

Looking into her soft blue eyes, he nodded. “Yes, much better now. You have my thanks,” he said, feeling gratitude towards another for the first time in ages.

“My lord,” she said, leaning towards him. “I heard what the changeling told you.”

“How much…” he replied, trying to decide how best to deal with this new revelation.

“Everything,” she replied, placing her hoof on his. “You’re not alone, Sombra. Not if you don’t want to be.”

“Impossible,” he said, turning away from her. “I’m balancing along the edge of a knife. If I make even the slightest mistake, I shall fall to my doom. Nopony can help me.”

“I’ll help you,” she offered, drawing closer.

“What could you possibly do?” he asked, furious at himself for falling to her seduction.

“If you stop this evil you’ve brought on my people, I’ll become your wife, and plead to the Slave King on your behalf,” she said, laying all her cards down on the table.

“What makes you think I’d ever agree to that,” he said, suddenly feeling the noose around his neck becoming much looser.

“What other choice do you have, my lord?” Topaz replied, kissing him once more.

“Admittedly very few,” he said, weighing her offer in his mind.

“When the Grand Galloping Gala takes place next month, the Slave King should be in attendance there,” she said, snuggling up against her husband to be. “While he’s there, you can ask him for his permission for my hoof in marriage, admit your part in these crimes against the crystal ponies, and beg him for forgiveness. I’ll be there at your side, pleading with him on your behalf.”

“What guarantee do I have that you just won’t rat me out to the Slave King the first chance you get, and hang me out to dry, Topaz?” he demanded, worried that this was all a ploy to destroy him.

“Sombra, even though I find you a vile pony, I appreciate the position you’ve found yourself in,” she explained, sitting up in their bed. “Even if we were to be rid of you, there’s no guarantee that your master Second, won’t have a backup plan somewhere in the works.”

“Why would you agree to any of this?” he asked, trying to force her to reveal her true motives.

“Because like it or not, I can’t free my people without your assistance,” she said, pointing out that necessity makes for strange bedfellows. “And perhaps even an undeserving villain like you should get a second chance.”

Looking down at the mare lying beside him, he was impressed by how bold and daring her plan was. Contemplating her scheme, he appreciated how well it dealt with his current situation. There were only two great unknowns with the plan, how Second would respond when he discovered that he’d been betrayed, and what the Slave King would do to him when he revealed the full extent of his crimes.

Of course there was always the possibility that Topaz was playing him, using him to reveal himself to the Slave King so that she could be permanently rid of him. “Topaz,” he said, giving her a hard look. “What guarantee do I have that you won’t betray me at the first opportunity? Once we’ve arrived together at the Grand Galloping Gala and have met with the Slave King, I’ll be completely at your mercy.”

Looking into his eyes, she offered him a reassuring smile. “No matter how much I despise you,” she said, pressing her hoof against his. “I would never harm the father of our foal.”

“How?” he asked, wondering how she’d managed to impregnate herself.

“Before dinner, I took a potion guaranteed to make a mare fertile,” she explained, hoping her revelation would entice him to accept her offer. “After that, I simply needed to spend some quality time with you, my lord.”

“I’ll have to sleep on it, Topaz,” he said, taken aback by the lengths she was willing to go to secure his aid.

As he lay in silence beside her, the former queen of the Crystal Dominion, Topaz III, looked at her lord and smiled. She was sure he would come around, after all what other choice did he have? Soon all would be made right once again, and she would return to her proper place ruling over the ponies she loved so dear.

*****

“So tell me, wife,” the masked man said, looking at the majestic alicorn from beneath his arcanum iron crown. “What should be built next? Its mind, or its heart?”

Truthfully he still didn’t know the right answer. With so many variables to consider, and only able to build one or the other, the man had turned to the wife he didn’t love for advice. Although he didn’t consider her a warrior, he respected her ancient wisdom, thoughtful insight, and tenacity. The legends he’d heard tell of her over the centuries, often spoke of the dark huntress of the night. Tales he was sure that hadn’t just been told as bed time stories to entertain and frighten children.

Earlier he’d asked her opinion of what to do regarding the changeling queen he’d suspected of causing all his recent troubles, and found that her offered advice to be meritorious. Even though his marriage to her had been one born of necessity rather than affection, so far she’d proven herself more than a lovely face, comely beauty, and shapely form. She was proving herself a useful asset to his… no rather their shared domain.

He wondered to himself as she contemplated his query, Wife, what other use might I have for you?

His weakened body needed her divinity to sustain him for now, but what of tomorrow? How could he justify keeping her beside him to himself, if he had no further need of her. He supposed she might protest that she was wife, and he had no say in the matter. But if they came to loggerheads over the issue and push came to shove, should they decide to battle each other over her right to stay with in his domain, they both knew whose will would finally emerge victorious.

Although he didn’t quite understand why she felt so dedicated to making this ill-fated union work, he knew how much this sham of a marriage meant to her. Thus he’d decided that he would at least give her an opportunity to prove herself a useful helpmeet to him. After all, it was the least he could for the little woman, before casting her aside once he’d fully regained his strength.

Looking into her turquoise eyes, he wondered what her answer might be.

Looking at her husband, she contemplated his question. What should be built next? Truthfully, she wasn’t quite sure. There was so little she knew about the purpose of the great machine, except that her husband felt it would render all other war machines obsolete. Something which if it could do all that the plans promised it could, would surely revolutionize warfare in Equestria for centuries to come.

But her husband spoke of it possessing wisdom and courage, as if he might imbue the machine with a living soul. But such was an impossibility. With only few rare exceptions, few magics were powerful enough to breathe life into an otherwise inanimate object. Especially one as large as the machine her husband was attempting to build. She wondered what its true purpose was, why its construction was so ambitious, and why he would even bother building such a machine in the first place.

Those are some insightful questions, princess, the ever present voice whispered to her.

Why hast thou returned to us unbidden? she demanded, furious that the voice felt free to intrude upon this intimate moment she was sharing with her husband.

Because I am contracted with you, to aid you in winning your husband’s heart, the voice replied, reminding her of the agreement they held with each other.

She fully remembered the contract she had with the voice, and had mistakenly thought she would be the one to initiate any further contact between them.

We art fully cognizant of our contract with thee, she replied, looking down at the machine beneath her. But we ask thee again, for what purpose hast thou spoken to us?

My dear, our contract only stipulated that I help you gain the affections of your cold and distant husband, it said, letting out a low chuckle. I never agreed to only come at your beck and call.

Thou cad! she seethed, annoyed that the voice had tricked her into joining a geis with it.

Now, now, little princess, it said as it laughed. There’s no reason to be unpleasant, after all we’re roommates now, and we should be good friends.

We know now thy word is as less than nothing, thou liar, she said, fearful that the agreement she had with the voice might give it some untoward power over her.

Now that was unkind of you, little princess, the voice said, feigning hurt. I’ve kept my word haven’t I. You did get that kiss after all, didn’t you, my princess?

Thinking back to the kiss she’d shared with her husband, she felt her heart lightly flutter. It had been so nice knowing affection, even if had been for but moment, and not entirely of his own volition.

We suppose thou hast been true to thy word so far… she mused, wondering what else the voice might make come to pass.

Yes, yes I have, the voice smugly agreed, making sure she knew just who it was that had made the kiss possible.

But we art still bereft of our husband’s love and devotion, Luna reminded it, hoping to regain control of their conversation.

I know, my friend, it said, drawing her attention towards the great machine her husband had been building for his unknown purposes. But behold the machine! Is it not a glorious and divine mechanical marvel? With such a machine at your disposal, not even Celestia could stand before your ambition.

Hold still thy serpentine tongue, beast, she replied, offended that the voice thought to tempt her into attempting a coup against her own sister. We hast no designs upon anypony elses domain. We seek naught but our husband’s heart, but besides the machine belongeth to our husband, not us. To think we coulds’t wrest it from him, is foolhardy at best.

Ah, but what’s his is yours, am I right? the voice said, pointing out the joint ownership they held over each others domains. Imagine, with such power at your command, nopony would ever deny you ever again. You would be loved and respected by all.

Nay, what thou proposeth woulds’t gain us nary a speck of love, she said, putting the voice’s temptation behind her. Shoulds’t we seek after such, we woulds’t harvest naught but fear, terror, and dread.

Ah, but you would finally be respected by your subjects even greater than your sister, it countered, showing her images of everypony bowing down before her.

Such love woulds’t be as hollow as thy empty promises, she replied, refusing to entertain the treasonous idea for a moment. We dost not desire the vain and insincere accolades thou hast envisioned for us.

Is that so, little moon flower? the voice whispered, using the pet name her former paramour, Lord Cerynitis had once been fond of calling her. Then tell your husband that a gentle heart is of greater value, than a mind bent on destruction. Otherwise advise him that a clever mind will be make for a more deadly warrior, while a heart will only blunt its resolve to do what needs to be done.

We hast not yet decided our answer, she protested, worried that the voice knew her heart.

We’ll you’d better, and soon, the voice teased with a dark chuckle. Your husband appears to be getting impatient with your silence.

Although she was loathe to admit it, the voice’s suggestions had merit. A soldier without a mind would be next to useless. But no matter how effective a soldier might be in battle, if they didn’t possess the wisdom to know when to stay their hoof, or carry mercy enough within them to spare their foe when the time came, they would be no less than a blood thirsty brute. A monster who cared more for reveling in bloodshed, than defending those too weak to defend themselves.

But if she turned away from the prudent choice, her husband might deride her for choosing sentimentality over practicality. But what dids’t it matter in the end? she thought to herself, looking at the half finished machine beneath her hooves. Our husband hath said that it t’would get both. Perhaps a mind does have more value at this juncture.

Knowing she needed to answer him, she looked to her husband and offered him a gentle smile. “Husband, we believeth thy machine needeth a mind,” she said, looking into his burning eyes.

He gave her a curious look as he considered her answer, this had been unexpected. He’d been certain that his tenderhearted wife would have valued a courageous heart over a clever mind. So when she answered that a mind had more worth, he felt intrigued by her reasoning.

Deciding he needed to know more, he decided to try the impossible, getting to know the unfathomable mind of a woman. “A mind, wife,” he mused, lightly stroking his greying beard as he looked over the blueprints in front of them. “Give me your reasoning.”

When she heard him expressing an interest in getting to know her better, her heart leapt with joy, as she suppressed the urge to whoop in triumph. He was finally making a move to become closer to her, and she felt elated that he valued her opinion.

“Beloved,” she said, pressing her muzzle against the brand baring her cutie mark on his shoulder. “Thy machine is a weapon of war. Without a mind to control its actions, how else coulds’t it fulfill its one true purpose?”

“A wise and reasoned answer, wife,” he said, lifting his arcanum hand to meet her muzzle. “But I wonder if focusing too much on its fighting abilities is a mistake.”

When he revealed his concerns to her, she was surprised. Never before had she heard him confess his worries about anything. In fact, as long as she’d known him, he’d never been known to wax philosophically about anything.

Seeing him hesitate, she saw an opportunity to reaffirm her value to him as his wife and decided to seize it. “Husband, why else hast thou built thy machine, but for war?” she asked, offering her council and hoping to cement herself as a trusted partner and adviser in their domain’s affairs. “Is not the plow for tilling, and the wagon for pulling? Thy machine shoulds’t be no different.”

Pleased with her answer, he placed his hand on her cheek and rested his head against hers. “Truly, I’m fortunate to have married such a wise woman,” he said, before pulling away from her.

Turning to his dragon-half forge master, he rapped his metal knuckles against the stone table twice and smiled. “Ignatius, it appears our course is set now,” he said, offering his wife an appreciative nod.

Ignatius put down the parchment he’d been writing on and looked at his king. Wetting the quill with his red scaly lips, he prepared to write down this month’s work order. “So, master, I take it we shall be building the Devastation’s mind first?” he asked, offering his lord an expectant look.

“Yes, we’re following my wife’s suggestion,” he said, leaning against her as his strength began waning once more. “Wife, I’d say that congratulations are in order, you’ve just made your first official decree for our domain.”

When she heard his words, a rosy blush bled through her dark blue coat. His words our domain meant the world to her. Finally her husband was considering her more than an unwanted mare that he’d been forced to marry. Even if it was only for this brief moment in time, he considered her his equal.

Nuzzling against his shoulder, she lightly kissed his brand. “Beloved, we hope thou hast found our council to thy liking,” she said, wishing to convey the depth of the gratitude she felt towards him. “Shoulds’t it pleaseth thee, husband, we pray thou wilt continue seeking after our wisdom.”

Now that he’d received his lord’s instructions, Ignatius thought it would best to return to his forge. Pulling some levers, he made the observation platform return back to its proper place in the Manufactorium. “Slave King,” he said, giving Sapphire, who until now, had been looking wistfully at the happy couple in silence, an impatient look. “If there’s nothing else, we’ll begin readying the manufactorium for building the Devastation’s mind immediately.”

Nodding approvingly at his forge master’s work ethic, he motioned with his hand they were dismissed for now. “When things are ready to proceed, send a preliminary report to Harmony,” he said, giving the two dragon-halfs a thoughtful look.

“Yes, Slave King,” he replied, but seeing how weak his master still was, he sighed before voicing his concerns. “Are you well enough to use so much of your power, so soon?”

Hearing Ignatius’ worries, the Slave King released a boisterous laugh. “Ignatius, my body might be weak, but my power is stronger than ever,” he said, pointing towards the magical green flames burning in his eyes. “If I don’t push myself too hard, I should be fine.”

Ignatius nodded once and began gathering all the assorted papers and blueprints they had been pouring over. Seeing him struggle rolling up one of the blueprints, Sapphire reached out to help him. When their claws touched, she pulled hers back and gave him shy smile.

Seeing the dragoness so bashful around the drake, made the Slave King look at his wife. He saw her first look toward Sapphire and then Ignatius, and saw her eyes a small desire for them. With the exception of his regular dealings with his forge master, he’d never bothered getting to know the rest of their clan very well. Beyond sparing them when they were tiny whelps, and the occasional tours he took of the manufactorium, he’d paid them little attention. They were as nameless to him as the other beastfolk tribes and diamond dog clans under his rule.

Perhaps being so indifferent towards them had been a mistake. Thanks to his earlier benevolence towards them after their creation and Ignatius’ efforts, the Dragon-half tribe were greatly devoted to him, and creation knew that loyalty such as theirs was a rarity, especially here in the treacherous South. Deciding to start taking a greater interest in their welfare, he decided to take his wife’s advice once more.

“Ignatius,” he said, giving the dragoness an appraising look. “Perhaps you and Sapphire might go over the plans together as you plan this month’s work schedule.”

Raising his brow, he gave his lord a questioning look. “Master, I think I have things covered here,” he said, wishing to be free from the flirtatious dragoness so that he could return to the solitude of his workbench. “Besides, Sapphire and her sisters came in during their time off, they should be free to enjoy the rest of their evening.”

Sensing the dragon-half’s reluctance to socialize, he saw a reflection of himself within his forge master. He wondered if this was what Celestia had seen in himself when she’d made it her goal to see him married. Looking at the dragoness and then at his wife, he almost felt sorry for what he was about to do to Ignatius, almost but not quite. After all, the dragon-half tribe needed to grow its ranks if it was going to serve him in any meaningful capacity in the centuries to come.

Deciding that he’d give him a nudge in the proper direction, he made his wishes known. “Nonsense, Ignatius,” he said, gesturing towards Sapphire. “Two pairs of eyes are better than one. Besides, you’re always complaining about how much work gets left undone in the Manufactorium. Maybe it’s about time we considered adding another forge master to the ranks. You two could discuss our manufacturing strategy over dinner, and hammer out a schedule together.”

Taken aback by his lord’s suggestion, Ignatius looked at Sapphire before looking back at the Slave King. “I suppose it might make sense discussing some of these unsolved engineering challenges as we eat,” he said, thoughtfully rubbing his claw along his chin. “But when I mentioned earlier needing more labor here in the Manufactorium, I was thinking more along the lines of assigning some minotaurs, kolbolds, or diamond dogs to work here, not promoting a dragoness to forge master.”

When she heard him summarily dismiss Sapphire from even being considered for the position, Luna stomped her hoof in righteous indignation. “Son, pray tell, why dost thou consider thy sister unworthy of serving beside thee?” she chastised, wishing to ensure her dragon-half daughter was given a chance to prove herself at least.

“Princess Luna,” he replied, wishing now that he’d said nothing. “It’s not that Sapphire or any of the other dragonesses are unworthy. It’s just that we’re in a critical phase of development, and any unnecessary distractions might place us behind schedule.”

“So, young Ignatius, art thou worried that thou cans’t keep thy wandering eyes and hooves to thyself?” she pointedly asked, giving him a hard look.

When he heard her accusation, Ignatius’ dull red scales became brighter as he flushed with embarrassment. “Princess Luna, I… I,” he stammered, tripping over his words as he struggled to find the right thing to say in order to better explain himself.

Deciding to rescue him from any further embarrassment, Sapphire stood up and gathered the last few remaining papers and blueprints that lay scattered on the table. “Come on, Ignatius,” she said, taking his claw in hers and pulling on his arm so that he’d follow her. “If we leave now, we can still get a table at the tavern. Don’t worry, master, we’ll have something to show you in a few days. Mother, I look forward to your next visit to the Manufactorium.”

Before walking away with Ignatius in tow, Sapphire shot the Slave King a grateful look, and silently mouthed, Thank you, as they made their way away from the observation platform. Seeing how grateful the dragoness had been for his intervention on her behalf, he wondered if Ignatius was feeling resentful towards him. After a moment he decided it didn’t matter. All he’d done was give the dragoness an opportunity, but Ignatius was still free to resist her advances if he choose.

As they watched the dragon-halfs make their escape from their master and mistress, Princess Luna turned to the Slave King. “Methinks Ignatius is lucky to possess an ally such as her, who is so quick to save him from our meddling.” she said, affectionately nuzzling her husband and kissing his cheek. “Sapphire wilt be forever grateful to thee for thy aid, beloved, and thou hast our gratitude as well for making our daughter so happy.”

Thinking about Sapphire’s happiness, and his own wife’s gentle nuzzling of his shoulder brought a warmth to him that he’d not known in ages. Even now he wasn’t sure what had prompted him to push the dragon-halfs together. Normally he despised manipulation, but after looking into his wife’s eyes he’d seen her desire for the two to become closer, and had acted. Did this mean he was becoming more like Celestia, he wondered, worried that he was becoming more like her and the rest of the scheming deities on the Pantheon that he’d once considered himself above.

Sensing his uneasiness, Luna rubbed her head against his shoulder. “Beloved, art thou fatigued?” she asked, her turquoise eyes reflecting the concern she held for him. “Shalt we return to our bed chambers for respite and relaxation?”

Leaning against her silken coat, and basking in her gentle warmth, he sighed. His wife’s suggestion sounded enticing. “Yes, some rest would be good, wife,” he said, stroking her neck.

“Then come, husband,” Luna said, lifting him up onto her back with her magic. “We shall carry thee wheresoever thou needeth to go.”

Relaxing into her magic’s hold, he leaned against her and breathed in her heady scent. The pleasant feelings of warmth he’d felt earlier were returning even stronger now, and for some reason didn’t feel quite so foreign to him anymore. Resting against her long flowing mane he smiled and whispered, “Thank you.”

Author's Note

Thank you gentlereader for reading chapter nine of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, as always comments are appreciated.

First I would like to thank you, gentlereader for your patience waiting for this chapter to be released. As a reward for your patience, I made the chapter nearly twice the normal length. Hopefully future installments will be released in shorter intervals.

We finally return to the griffin siblings Len and Raine as they recover and heal from their fight with the pegasus Bucky Pie and his flutterpony friend Glitterwing. It appears that beyond satisfying their need for revenge these two siblings are of a different mind about what path they should follow. Both hope that they are the one to marry Raine's savior but for different reasons. Raine for her parts seems totally smitten, while Len hopes that his sister will be free to marry into one of the great griffin clans. Once these two finally confront Bucky, we can only wonder their fate will lead them.

Lady Zephyr has finally made up her mind to seek redress for herself and her people. But who could have foreseen that instead of war, she seeks the power of the law to aid them. Truly the pen must be mightier than the sword. But we can only wonder how deep the corruption runs, if Councilor Johan is any indication. Is the corruption reserved for only the top echelons of power, or have its wicked tendrils tainted the entirety of the Domain of Air's government? What will the Maelstrom do when she finally discovers how far and wide the corruption has spread?

Meanwhile Elrey and Suzaku have seemed to have had a meeting of the mind and heart. While the wayfarer wonders if he and the Slave King's destiny are intertwined with one another. Suzaku seems to be well on her way to filling the hole in her heart left by her previous lover. Only time will tell if Elrey will respond to her charms and reciprocate her desires. We can only wonder what the Slave King might say if he knew. Would he be happy for them, or furious at what they had done. And what did Suzaku mean when she said Elrey was maturing, will he be forced to live through puberty a second time?

Melody and her companions are now well on their way to Shadehoof, beyond a bit of music, will their journey on the Lonely Road be one wrought with peril, or will it live up to its namesake, and only offer them solitude? Dame Squall seems to know something is off about Chrysalis, what will she do when she learns of her hidden secret. And what will the others do once Melody has finally revealed to them the mission she was assigned by the Winding One, Jormungandr?

Sombra appears to be of two minds, either he stays the course and continues to be used by Second and Bazzt Zzzt, or takes a chance with the pony he's repeatedly abused, Topaz III, former queen of the crystal ponies. For her part, Topaz has taken a great risk, and pushed in all her chips. Will her gamble pay off, and convince Sombra to betray Second and his dark cause. Will he stay true to those who have betrayed him, or will he accept her offer of aid, marriage, fatherhood, stop his wickedness and repent, begging the Slave King for forgiveness?

Luna has given her answer to her husband, and advised him that a mind is of more value then a heart. Following the voice's suggestion is seemingly paying off. But we can only wonder if Luna had been true to her convictions might the Slave King have respected her more? Alas we'll never know. But it appears that the Slave King has decided to take a greater interest in those who serve him, but wonders if he's becoming too much like those he once looked down upon. In choosing to involve himself in his subject's lives, will he remain true to who he considers himself to be, or will he succumb to same habits that Celestia and the others seemingly employ?

Find out the answers to these questions and more, in the next exciting chapter of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, coming soon to computer near you!

Once again, gentlereader, thank you for reading and all your kind words and support. You make writing worthwhile. Until next time!

Inquire Within and I Shall Speak True

The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter

A Story by TalonMach5

Inquire Within and I Shall Speak True

Looking up from his meditation, he growled at what he saw. Narrowing his eyes at his accusers, he sneered, annoyed and infuriated that they thought to judge him, he who ruled all above and beneath the Earth. Glaring at the darkened mirror before him, he saw the accusing eyes of ten thousand staring back at him. Rolling back his eyes dismissively at those who thought to cast judgement upon him, he turned away from the darkened mirror's cloudy surface.

Returning to his meditation, he tried ignoring the piercing stares of the faceless multitude beneath the dark glass of the mirror's surface. Slowing his breathing, he drew in his breathe through his nostrils, and paused before releasing it back out past his pursed lips. All around him he felt the comforting thrum of the Earth pulsing along the ley lines that crisscrossed throughout his domain like a spiders web. Slowly he felt his earlier anger melt away as he lost himself within the hymn that the Earth was singing to him. Now at peace, and completely removed from his rage and fury, he lost himself to the throes of the song of creation, as he became the center of his realm, the Domain of Earth. It was here that he knew calm and true peace, and here there was nothing that could touch him.

But before he could add his baritone voice to the siren song of creation, he once more felt the accusing eyes break through his meditation, piercing his soul.

"Damn it all to Hades!" he roared, opening his eyes as the verdant magic flames composing them flared to life.

Turning to face his accusers, the Slave King tightened his right hand into a powerful fist. Ignoring the squeal of metal rubbing against metal his false arm was making, he drew back his arcanum fist, fully prepared to reach into the mirror's depths to pull a soul from dark glass before him, so he might bring forth the first of many judgements against them.

"Beloved," he heard a gentle feminine voice say.

The speaker's calm and gentle tone threatened to extinguish his rage, and he felt his anger redouble. How dare she! he fumed, annoyed that even this was being denied to him.

"Wife, why have you disturbed me as I meditate?" he coldly replied, not caring for a moment how his callous response might hurt his tender hearted spouse.

Worriedly laying back her ears, she paused a moment to allow his hurtful response to her concern for his well being roll off her pained heart, before replying. "Husband, we sense thou art somehow discomfited," she said, worried that in his rage and anger, her beloved might relapse back into his formerly weakened state.

Normally he had no desire encouraging his wife's inquiry into his private affairs, but until he resolved the issue of the mirror, he feared that he might not be able to return to his meditation and the peace that was found within it. Burying his face within his metal hand, he felt its cool surface against his pallid flesh and felt slightly better. Drawing his hand down along his face, he gently pulled against his greying beard as he ruminated on a proper response to his wife's concern.

Deciding there would be no harm in revealing the cause of his frustration to her, he turned to face his wife. Although he was quite familiar and well acquainted with her beauty, even now it still threatened to captured his nonexistent heart. He supposed as he gazed upon her comely face and radiant form, had his heart still beat within him his chest he might have found it refusing to beat as he basked in her presence. Seeing her in all her glory and beauty quickened his pulse as he found desire for her drying his mouth. Pushing back these unwanted hunger, he steeled himself as he gestured towards the dark glass before them.

"It's the mirror, wife," he said pointing accusingly at its polished surface.

"What of the mirror, beloved?" she asked puzzling why something as innocuous as a mirror could cause such discomfit for someone as powerful as her husband.

"They mock and think to make a fool of me," he accused, giving the mirror a dark glare as he thought over the possible punishments he could give these mortals who thought themselves capable of judging him in the least.

"Who seeks thy discomfiture, husband," she asked, worried that he had indeed relapsed to the vile curse that had nearly claimed him. Feeling sorrow that he was so unhappy, she drew him to her side with her wing and held him tightly. "Beloved, when we wed thee, we swore to thee we woulds't keep thee safe from all thy enemies. We shan't allow thee to suffer any further by thy wicked and unfeeling tormentor's cruelty."

Held fast between the downy softness of her wing and luxurious silken coat, he felt relief for the first time since the multitude within the mirror had sought to censure him. "Luna, thank you," he softly said, nearly surrendering to his wife as she held him to her.

Feeling her cheeks flushing from his unsolicited praise, she pressed her head against his shoulder. "Beloved, tell us of who it is that dares to harass and harangue thee, and we shalt smite them for their crass impertinence!"

Pulling away from her embrace, he gestured once more to the mirror before them. "Can't you see them starring at us?" he said, looking into the glass's dark depths. "Accusing, judging me, as if they had any right to do so."

Puzzled by his response, Luna looked at the mirror and was unable to see anything beyond their reflection looking back at her. Tilting her head slightly to the side, she tried to no avail to see what it was that her husband was seeing. Unwilling to admit defeat, she drew upon her magic, and channeling it through her horn she released a spell upon the dark glass hoping to reveal its hidden secrets to her. But as far as she could tell, the mirror was simply that, a mirror. Her magic showed it held no magic of it own, and beyond the dark glass it was made from, it was simply mundane.

"My apologies, husband," she said, desperately wishing she could see that which was agitating him so. "I see naught but ours and thine reflection within, and mine spell divines nothing magical within the glass."

When he heard her words, he felt relief. Perhaps he had only imagined their eyes staring back at him from the mirror's cloudy depths. Truly their were few to none more skilled in magic then his wife, let alone magic pertaining to the Domain of Shadows. And if she with all her power could perceive nothing, then he was fairly certain what she said was true. Resting his arcanum hand against the mirror's cool surface, he looked into its depths trying to spy his accusers once more. When he could see none, he closed his eyes in relief. Finally he could return to the peace and serenity his meditation offered him.

Turning towards his wife, he was about to offer her his heartfelt thanks for calming his uneasy mind, when he sensed them looking at him once more. Turning around, he glared at the mirror before him with all the fury he could muster. The flames within his eyes burned like balefire as he frantically searched the mirror's depths for the mortals who so foolishly thought they could mock the Slave King and get away with it unscathed.

Concerned with her husband's erratic behavior, Luna placed herself between the angry deity and the mirror in the hopes of calming him down. "Come, beloved," she implored, looking up into his anger filled eyes with concern as she gently nuzzled him. "We beseech thee, dearest, pray pull back thy ire, and allow us to tend to thee."

Breathing heavily from the great strain his anger and rage had placed upon his body, the Slave King breathed in deeply as he turned to his wife. Gazing into gentle turquoise eyes, he found himself slowly drained of his furious anger. Exhausted from the trauma he'd placed upon himself, he sat down upon their bed, and lowered his head in defeat.

"Wife, what would you have me do?" he asked, tired of fighting against the gentle correction of her tender heart and compassionate spirit.

"Tell us, beloved," she said, sitting besides her husband on the bed. "When thou searcheth the mirror, what dost thou seeth?"

"I see their searching and accusing eyes," he replied, his voice nearly a whisper, looking away from the hateful mirror which mocked him so.

"Who's eyes dost thou seeth?" she asked, with equal parts curiosity and concern. Wondering who it was real or imagined that could cause him such duress.

"I know not whose eyes they are, yet I see them all the same," he answered, turning to look Luna in the face.

"Perhaps, husband, if thou placateth the evil spirits which accost thee so, they mayest leaveth thee in peace," Luna suggested, hoping to bring balm to uneasy and troubled heart.

"Yes, wife, perhaps you are right," the Slave King agreed, deciding her suggestion had merit.

Standing up, he approached the darkened surface of the mirror and stood before it. Drawing himself up to his full height, he stood before his accusers boldly, before offering them a derisive sneer. "Alright," he commanded, with all the power of the Earth within his words. "Say your piece. Ask your questions, and I shall not stay my answers. Speak your minds, foul apparitions, begone, and trouble me no further!"

Author's Note

Thank you gentlereaders for reading this noncanon chapter of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, as always comments are appreciated.

The purpose of this chapter is a bit different. In case you didn't read my blog post, I finally overcame the stumbling block to my writing, and am on my way to finally finishing chapter ten after nearly a year of starting and stopping it. Because each of the characters in the story each have a unique voice of their own, I'm concerned that my future writing will suffer after letting my pen lay fallow for so long.

So beyond giving you something to read until I've finished writing chapter ten, I humbly ask that you ask any questions you might have regarding any of the stories in the Great Slave King Saga in the comments, and I will answer each of them in the voice of the character you asked it of no matter how silly or inane it might seem. For example if you wanted to know why the Slave King never seems to eat anything, you would receive your answer straight from the Slave King's mouth so to speak. I hope that this little writing exercise will help me remember the voices I was using for everyone.

So if you wish to participate please say who your question is being addressed to and the manner in which you ask it (i.e. sarcastically, seriously, etc.), and I'll do my hardest to provide the appropriate answer to your question.

Find out the answers to your questions and more, in the next exciting noncanon chapter of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, coming soon to computer near you!

Once again, gentlereader, thank you for reading and all your kind words and support. You make writing worthwhile. Until next time!

Chapter 10: A Promise, One Fulfilled and One Forgotten, One Betrayed, Another Begotten

The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter

A Story by TalonMach5

Chapter 10: A Promise, One Fulfilled and One Forgotten, One Betrayed, Another Begotten

Sipping the soup from his spoon, he enjoyed the light savory flavor of salmon on his tongue. The broth held a salty aftertaste, a reminder of the fishes’ origin. Enjoying his dinner, he looked out through a nearby window and saw the pink tint of the eastern horizon, and considered that given the lateness of the hour, this might as well be considered his breakfast.

Taking another spoonful of soup in his beak, he remembered another breakfast he’d had not too long ago, and the feather he’d shared it with. Licking his beak’s edge, he tasted the salty residue of the broth wetting it, and was reminded of her. He wondered if she’d given him any further thought since he and his mother had left the Diamond Vale, or if her duties had driven any further thoughts of him from her mind.

Spearing a small piece of meat from his plate, he looked at its pink and tender flesh before placing it in his mouth. Slowly chewing it, he tasted the sweet and savory herbs that had seasoned his meal. Although he’d enjoyed his adventures in the south, it had been quite some time since he’d last tasted griffin cuisine. It wasn’t until now as he was enjoying a proper griffin meal, that he realized how much he’d missed his home and people.

Looking across the table at his mother, he rested his warm brown eyes on her, and offered her a heartfelt smile. Truly it was good to be home once more, here in the Golden Eyrie, atop the craggy peaks of Darkpaw’s Spine in the heart of the Domain of Air. When he saw her tired eyes and weary face, he felt a touch of guilt. How many sleepless nights had he put her through when he’d left her in anger?

When he’d left her, it had been with a flurry of harsh words and ruffled feathers. He could still remember her stern anger towards him when he’d told her of his decision to leave home. She’d shouted, begged, and pleaded with him in vain to reconsider his rash choice. But her words had fallen upon deaf ears, his stubborn pride had demanded that he leave the safety of the nest. He’d felt that he was ready to claim his birthright, and in his naivety he’d thought that his father would agree with his assessment.

He was wrong. In the end, the absentee father that he’d so desperately wanted to be a part of his family for his entire life had rejected him without a second thought. But his journey hadn’t been for naught. Although he’d failed to claim the father he’d so longed for, he’d discovered family that he’d had no idea existed. Three half-sisters to be precise. Melody, a featherfolk harper with a penchant for mischief, warm hugs, and a teasing smile. Harmony, the Slave King’s court magister, who’s seemingly outwardly cold and distant persona was off-putting, but when it mattered the most, had shown how fiercely she loved her sisters.

Then there was Aria. When he’d first met the fiery plumed featherfolk girl, she’d started a fight with him, trying her damnedest to run him through with the arcanum long knife she always kept at her side. They had sparred together, she and him, alongside the seapony maid who’d caught his interest. It had been fierce fight, and even though they had her outnumbered, she seemed to have them outmatched. Fighting with a skill and mastery he’d seen few possess, she’d alit her long knife with a magical flame that revealed the heritage she’d surely inherited from her mother. While her fighting skills with her favored weapon and martial form, showed she was as much a daughter or the earth, as he was its son.

Before he’d abandoned his mother to sneak down to the South, he’d always considered himself a skilled warrior. Over the years, he’d had the advantage of training with many of the master of arms and the most skilled warriors of all the griffin clans. They had taught him all the proud martial traditions and fighting styles of their people. So when they briefly fought, he’d been sorely unprepared for her onslaught. If not for Dame Squall’s timely intervention and magical improvisation, he doubted whether or not the crude club he’d managed to grab would have provided him with much if any defense.

Thankfully, Aria had believed her sister’s explanation that he was actually their half-brother, and instead of running him through with her long knife, had taken his talon, albeit grudgingly, in kinship. Having seen the fierce determination in her golden eyes, he recognized the familiar hunger he knew only too well, a burning desire to prove herself worthy of their father’s admiration.

Their father, now that was a somewhat sore spot for him. His heart still stung from the outright rejection he’d received at his talons. He remembered what Melody had told him about their father when she’d revealed to him that they were siblings. He treats us as his servants, not his children, she’d said. He was unsure if he could have suffered through the constant cold indifference their father had undoubtedly offered Aria and the others. How had they managed to endure it as long as they had?

“Mother,” Dawson said, putting down his spoon and looking to the one feather he knew might have the answer.

“Yes?” Lady Zephyr replied, giving her son a warm smile, happy they were able to enjoy a peaceful meal together once more, after so many meals spent apart.

“Why does the Slave King…” he began, before stopping himself midsentence. He found that asking her the question was more difficult than he had anticipated.

“Yes, Dawson?” she replied, offering him a look of concern when she heard the reticence in his tone. “What is it?”

He looked away from her for a moment, before returning his attention to his soup. Picking up his spoon, he chased the half eaten salmon fillet around the edge of his bowl. He didn’t expect that he would like his mother’s answer, but if ever wanted closure regarding his father he needed to know the truth.

“Mother, why does the Slave King want nothing to do with me?” he asked, losing any desire to finish his meal as an overwhelming feeling of apprehension formed in the pit of stomach. “I know he claims he has no children, but I’ve seen and heard how he spoke to Melody.”

Waiting for her answer, he looked into her sky blue eyes. Intellectually he knew that the answer more likely had to do with his mother’s history with the Slave King rather than because of himself, but part of him still feared that the reasons for his father’s curt dismissal of him might lay in a personal dislike that he might have towards him.

“Dawson, I’m so sorry, my chick…” Lady Zephyr said, displaying the sorrow and remorse she felt on her beak as she walked around the table to sit beside him. “Hoping to win his heart, I broke your father’s trust.”

Feeling relief that his father didn’t personally dislike him, he gently placed his talon on her shoulder. Offering her a sympathetic smile, he lowered his beak and placed a kiss upon his mother’s forehead. “What happened, mother?” he asked, hoping that she felt that he was finally ready to learn the truth.

“Dawson, we had you,” she tenderly said, drawing him close with her wing.

“What do you mean, mother? That you had me?” he asked, wondering how his conception might have drove his parents apart.

“Placing her talons against his beak, she looked up at her son and smiled. “Dawson, you look so much like him sometimes,” she wistfully said, waxing slightly sentimental for a moment.

Seeing his mother getting all misty eyed about his father and her former lover, made him feel slightly uncomfortable. “Mother, please tell me what happened between you two,” he implored, wishing he knew the truth in its entirety.

“It’s as I said,” she explained, gingerly stroking his back with her talon. “We had you, and your father didn’t take the news very well.”

“But why? What about Lady Suzaku and the feathered folk tribe then?” Dawson countered, unable to understand why his mother had had a different outcome then the Lady of Summer. “The Slave King didn’t seem to have any issues making all the other beast folk tribes.”

“Dawson, I was overcome with joy when your father and I had finally managed to conceive you together,” Lady Zephyr said, hoping the truth wouldn’t cut him too deeply. “However the Slave King didn’t share my sentiments, and dismissed me from his presence. I can only assume Suzaku neglected to advise him of their children until much later.”

“But why?” Dawson asked, hoping his mother could answer the reason for his father’s staunch refusal to acknowledge let alone love him. “All the old stories and tales speak of the pantheon’s celebration of each of their creations.”

“In my impatience at your father’s reluctance to return my feelings, I was dishonest and mislead him,” she answered, thinking back to that fateful night so many years ago with mixed feelings of longing and regret. “Suzaku. She told me that she had shared one of the Pantheon’s most sacred hymns with the Slave King, that of creation.”

Holding her son tightly against her breast with her wing, she lightly preened the feathers along his neck for a moment before continuing. “However, she also neglected to tell the Slave King about the potent magic that the Song of Creation holds in its singing,” she explained, wishing that she had better prepared her former lover for the inevitable fruit of their union. “I thought that by showing him the pinnacle of a deity’s ultimate power and purpose, and he’d finally return the love I’d held for him for so long.”

The memory of what had happened betwixt them began clawing at her heart, as her cheeks became wet with tears of regret. “Dawson,” she said, holding him tightly against her as she searched for the strength to continue her story. “When I first felt you within me, I was overjoyed at the new life your father and I had made together, and wanted to share my happiness with him. But instead of being happy at the prospects of becoming the patriarch of a new tribe like I thought he would, he was overcome with fury. Accusing me of betraying him, he cast me out from his domain and refused to have anything more to do with me.”

Seeing how distraught his mother was at recounting her story, he returned her embrace, letting her know how much he loved her. He thought back to the hurt he carried thanks to his father’s rejection, and sympathized with her. He wondered if either of them would ever truly find closure for themselves, or would the Slave King’s repudiation of them continue to haunt them into the foreseeable future. Deciding that he wanted to return to happier things, he decided to ask his mother what she and the council had decided to do regarding the petition from the griffin Cornelius, who he’d helped liberate from a decade of slavery.

“Mother,” Dawson asked, looking into her shining blue eyes as he gave her a loving squeeze. “So what have you and the council decided to do about the ongoing slavery within our borders?”

Wiping her reddened eyes with her napkin, Lady Zephyr laid her head against her son’s shoulder. Placing her talon on his, she looked up at him and smiled as a motherly pride for her son filled her breast. He had seen their shackled kinsfeather languishing in despair in some horrid slaver’s wagon, and had immediately leapt to action. Reflecting back on how her councilors had responded to her insistence that something be done about the continual chicknapping within her borders, she only wished they possessed a feather’s worth of the same righteous indignation and wisdom that her son had held when he’d seen such an injustice.

True, some of her councilors had pressed that she clamor for war or bits instead of reconciliation. But right now a war was scarcely something her impoverished nation could afford, and demanding bits in reparation for chicknapped griffins would only lend legitimacy to the rampant enslavement of her people. Her decision to sue the Slave King and the others was the only sensible alternative, to either a costly war or accepting a pittance for all those who’d been stolen away against their wills into bondage in the South.

Looking up at her son, she placed her talon on his shoulder. “Dawson,” she said, turning towards one of the murals adoring the wall depicting her domain. “We have decided that your father has much to answer for.”

“But, mother…” he said, before being silenced as she raised one of her talons.

“Not only does the Slave King have much to answer for,” she continued, running her talon through her son’s plumage. “But so too does Lord Triton and Princess Celestia. The blame for the enslavement of our people lay partially at their paws as well.”

“Are we going to go to war against all of them then?” Dawson asked, slightly worried they might not have the numbers required to succeed against so many. “Do we have the strength to fight all of their domains and armies simultaneously?”

“No, Dawson,” Lady Zephyr replied, gladdened that her son wasn’t flexing his talons to go to war as some of her more bloodthirsty subjects like General Ansgar had been. “We will bring a writ of formal complaint before the Pantheon, and sue them to receive our long overdue justice.”

“But, mother,” Dawson objected, unable to fathom how suing their domains could resolve the issue of the ongoing enslavement of his fellow griffins. “Surely Lord Triton has many seaponies in his employ well versed in the intricacies of the law, and Princess Celestia will surely have just as many lawyers at her disposal as the Lawgiver does.”

“Yes, Dawson,” she replied, nodding in agreement with his assessment.

“Than what hope do we have to ensure that Cornelius and anyfeather else suffering under my father’s brand will have in receiving any amount of justice?” he said, wishing he could do more.

“We will look to our allies in the west,” she said, pointing towards a ziggurat depicted in sapphires on the mural behind them.

“Do you think Lord Raiden will help us?” Dawson asked, knowing full well how the Lord of Autumn prided himself in his impartiality regarding the affairs of the other domains.

“If not, his sages might prove more agreeable,” Lady Zephyr said, returning to her seat. “Some of the greatest intellects alive live within his Ziggurat of Knowledge, the opportunity to match wits with some of the greatest masters of the law will be a temptation nearly impossible for them to resist.”

As he heard his mother speak, he felt a stirring in his heart similar to the one he’d previously heeded when he abandoned her and their home to embark on adventure. But this time it wasn’t for selfish reasons. He wanted to help his mother, their people, and all the others who’d been stolen away like Cornelius. He knew there was little he could offer in the realm of diplomacy to aid her, but still he wanted to do something for their cause.

Even though they’d only just been reunited after having been separated for so long, as Lady Zephyr’s son he felt this was something he could do, something he should do, something he needed to do. “Mother,” he said, placing his talons in his lap. “I know I’m grounded into the foreseeable future. But I think it should be me who asks Lord Raiden and his sages for help.”

“No, Dawson…” Lady Zephyr said, shaking her head and feeling unwilling to let her son out of the nest so soon. “It’s too dangerous out there in the Hinterlands of Autumn to travel alone all by yourself.”

Pulling out the small black coin bearing the Slave King’s image he’d received from Melody, he placed it on the table. “What slaver would dare harm the one carrying this?” he replied, sliding the coin across the table towards her.

Picking up the coin, she held it in her talons and felt her former lover’s power and magical essence emanating from within it. Dawson was right, only the foolhardy would dare touch somefeather who possessed such an artifact. Even if they ignored the coin and tried chicknapping her son anyway, the power of the coin was such that the Slave King would know almost immediately that somefeather had broken his laws and ignored the protection the coin offered its bearer.

Even though he would be protected from slaver predation, there was still the matter of the griffin bandits living out in the wilds who refused to be bound by any of the rules of their clan, polite griffin society, or even their civilization. They were barbarians, scarcely better than wild beasts in their behavior towards even their fellow griffins. She considered them a throwback to an earlier age when such behavior was still tolerated and even encouraged by her to some degree from the shadows. Back when she felt that the freedom to soar where you wish, unrestrained by any others was all that mattered.

But that was then and this was now, she considered all those who still followed the old ways without regard for others a menace, and one of her greatest follies. Eventually she had realized that alone, even the mightiest griffin was weak. However, when they banded together under a common purpose and banner, even the weakest of their number became stronger than the greatest of their foes.

It had been Celestia that had first shown her the benefits of harmony, and it was then that she had forbade her griffins from preying any further on the ponies in gratitude. Even though her people had bitterly complained about this new restriction to their freedom, it was the beginning of the long lasting friendship between their two peoples that had lasted until this day. But some had resisted against her new edicts, saying it went against the natural order. Furious at their obstinate rebellion and refusal to follow their goddess’s wishes, she cast them down from the mountain nests of their ancestors, and forbade them from ever returning until they’d repented for their misdeeds.

Even though most of them had eventually returned to the flock after begging for forgiveness from the Maelstrom, a select few held out and stubbornly refused to swallow their griffionic pride. Today most of those who traced their lineage from those blackguards and traitors and any deemed too wild or disloyal for proper griffin society eked out a living in the wild and untamed valleys of her domain and even further afield, the Hinterlands of Autumn and frozen tundra and taiga of Winter included.

“While you might be protected from your father’s minions,” Lady Zephyr pointed out, as she returned the coin to her son. “The wildlings and bandits prowling the hinterlands are another story altogether.”

“Mother, I’m not a chick anymore,” Dawson protested, placing the coin back in his pocket. “I can look after myself.”

“But you’re still my son,” she countered, standing up and looking directly at him. “You’re not leaving, and that’s final.”

Seeing the look of disappointment on his face, her heart went out to him. But didn’t Dawson understand that he was her little chick, and should anything untoward happen to him she didn’t know what she might do.

Sighing in disappointment, Dawson wiped his beak, pushed out his chair, and rose from the table. “I’m going to bed now,” he quietly said, turning away so that he could hide his disappointment from her. “Good night, mother.”

Reaching out a talon towards him, she slowly lowered it before answering. “Good night, Dawson, I love you,” she said, hoping that her son would understand why she didn’t want him to go.

Concealed from view, a lone griffin smiled to himself. Deciding that he’d heard enough, Councilor Johan ceased his eavesdropping, and rubbed his talons together in anticipation at the windfall that had just fallen into his lap. Now all that he needed to do was set things into motion, and he would end two problems with one decisive stroke. No longer worried for his future, he hummed an ominous melody to himself as he set off to begin the preparations of his latest scheme.

*****

“Ignatius, I still think that you’re being overly cautious,” the dragoness said in between hearty bites of the salad she was consuming, which mainly consisted of a healthy mix of rubies, emeralds, shaved platinum, and gold.

She didn’t normally splurge on such decadent fare, but when somescale else was footing the bill she couldn’t help herself. She looked across the table at her date, and offered him a sultry grin. Although they might be considered siblings, their tribe’s numbers were so few that any objections of possible incest were a moot point. She supposed that the normally straight laced forge master might bristle at the idea of any romantic entanglements between them.

He’d probably grumble about the inappropriateness of dating a subordinate, she thought to herself, as she wondered if he held passion for anything other than his work beneath that scaly red hide of his.

“Sapphire,” Ignatius replied, draining the spoonful of gold and silver dust suspended in an iron broth that he’d been eating. “It doesn’t matter if you think I’m being overly cautious, the last time I checked, it was I and not you, who was appointed by the Slave King to be his forge master.”

When she heard him reject her objections out of claw, her scales and spines bristled with righteous indignation. How dare he! she fumed, annoyed by how blasé he’d dismissed what she rightfully considered to be an expert opinion.

Truthfully, she could see the virtue in his insistence that they continue along the previously established tried and true conservative manufacturing techniques that the Slave King’s manufactorium had ran under for as long as she could remember. However, now that they were entering a completely new and unfamiliar phase of development, there was a rare and unprecedented opportunity to consider all new processes for the next manufacturing phase of the Devastation.

She could see in her mind’s eye all of the wonderful opportunities that would present themselves, if only she was allowed to experiment with their admittedly limited store of crystals and arcanum which had been consigned to their forge for the purpose of constructing the Devastation. She imagined how pleased the Slave King would be if she managed to develop a new refining process to turn raw arcanum ore into an even stronger and more potent magically resistant form of arcanum steel.

Truly, such a feat would cement her tribe’s position above all the other beast folk, and perhaps then the Slave King would do more than silently hint to Ignatius that he needed to attend to their tribe’s long term prosperity. Although she held no animosity towards the other beast folk tribes, their tribe’s members were few, and their numbers weren’t showing and signs of increasing anytime soon. With the other two drakes taking their cues from their much respected forge master brother, she was certain unless something changed, their tribe was fated for oblivion.

“But, Ignatius,” she replied, hoping to appeal to his love of tinkering. “Imagine all the new techniques and alloys we could discover, if we simply explored arcanum’s full potential!”

When he heard her argument, he laid his spoon down beside his half emptied bowl. Looking into her blue eyes, he saw them shining with ambition. Whether it was an eagerness to prove herself his equal, or for something else, he couldn’t tell. But they held the same hunger and anticipation of the looks that many of the bitches, mares, and even some of the more amorous female beast folk of the Slave King’s court sometimes gave their great lord.

Wetting his drying lips with his tongue, he ran it over his teeth as he picked up the silver tankard that held his ale. Looking into its amber depths, he saw a dark reflection of himself staring back at him. What a stark contrast his reflection was, to that of his ardent companion. She held the same passion for their work that he did, but wanted to achieve more than their conservatively proscribed rules and regulations would normally allow. It was something that he found sorely tempting, but as the forge master he wasn’t free to indulge in every half-baked theory and ill-conceived idea that passed through his mind.

“Sapphire,” he said, speaking in an even tone as he tapped a claw rhythmically against the wooden surface of their well-worn tavern table. “When you think of the Neo Vale, what’s the first thing that comes to mind?”

Looking into Ignatius’s crimson eyes, she considered her response. In truth she’d never given the capital much thought. Beyond the tiny corner of the great city she and the rest of her dragon-half kin inhabited, she’d never bothered spending much time exploring it. Besides the never ending construction, wide streets, half-finished buildings, and enormous throngs of citizens of slaves, she couldn’t determine what he was getting at. Reflecting on the unceasing construction, and all the continual improvements that were being made to the city, she reached what she considered was a good answer

Folding her claws together, she rested them on the table, and looked out a nearby window to the city. “Ignatius,” she said, offering him a sly smile as she glanced back at him before returning her gaze to the city. “I see a chance to grab the golden hammer that’s waiting for somescale to grab a hold of, an opportunity to prove ourselves worthy of the legacy our parents have bequeathed us.”

“I see progress,” she continued, reaching out her claw across the table towards his. “A future with boundless opportunities, for those wise enough to recognize them for what they are, especially when they lie just beneath their muzzles.”

Drawing back from her outstretched claw, the forge master considered her words as he sipped his tankard’s bitter contents. Wiping away the foam on his chin with the back of his hand, he sat back in his chair, folded his claws together in front of him, and gave her a dispassionate look.

“Where you see progress, I only see an incremental progression to the present that took the Domain of Earth centuries to achieve,” he said, allowing the bassy timbre of his voice to rumble from within his chest. “Where you see opportunity, I only see the fallout that would inevitably come should you fail.”

“You speak of our parent’s legacy,” Ignatius continued, taking a deep swig from his half empty tankard. “But the Slave King doesn’t consider us his kin, and I doubt the Fire Tyrant considers us his whelps either.”

“But Princess Luna said…” Sapphire tried interjecting, before Ignatius raised his claw to silence her.

“I’m sure she means well,” he replied, thinking back to the goddess who claimed she wished to be their mother. “But when have any member of the Pantheon ever had any real interest in the welfare of the beastfolk tribes?”

Hearing his objections, she gave Ignatius a bemused smirk, before looking back out the window towards the city. “What about Dawson, Ignatius?” she replied, sliding her chair towards his.

Remembering the prior week’s events at Bone’s Landing, made him feel somewhat nostalgic. He’d allowed Melody to talk him into giving away a veritable fortune in weapons and gear to the griffin-half for a mere pittance.

Seeing the slight smile on his muzzle, brought one to her own. “When she heard about the whereabouts of her missing son, Lady Zephyr rushed to his side like a whirlwind,” Sapphire said, pointing out the motherly love the Lady of Air held for her child.

Hearing her response to his objection, brought a touch of sadness to his heart. He remembered how the Maelstrom had looked at Dawson as he competed in disguise at the Bone’s Landing tournament and sorely wished he could’ve known such concern for himself.

Looking into his red eyes, and seeing the unfulfilled longing of his heart, she reached out her claw and lightly placed it atop his. “And then there’s the feathered folk,” she continued, moving closer to him until she was at his side. “It’s impossible to deny the affection Lady Suzaku holds for her children, especially Aria, Melody, and Harmony.”

Ah, the feathered folk, the beautiful and fair whelps sired between the Slave King and the Lady of Summer. There was no denying the love she held for them, Melody and her sisters especially. Thinking of his elder sister and her affectionate ways brought a warmth to his heart that burned hotter than even his internal fire. His Melly. She was the one that had helped raise him from a whelp no taller than her knee, until he towered over her. Although he stood head and shoulders above her, all it took was the promise of hugs to make him putty in her claws.

“Melody…” he murmured, reminiscing over the care and love his half-sister held for him.

“Ignatius, I’m sure if you just gave her a chance, mother would care as much about you as Melody does,” Sapphire said leaning against him, and basking in the heat that the memories of Melody were burning within him.

Looking down at the dragoness resting against him so intimately, he bit his lower lip and relished in the slight pain that was chasing away these unwelcome feelings that she was dredging up within him. Looking into her crystal blue eyes and looking beyond the flirtatious hunger they always seemed to hold for him, he saw the same vulnerable loneliness that he was all too familiar with. A loneliness that all the hugs from Melody would never quite chase away.

Sensing the time was right, she gave his claw a gentle squeeze as she looked up at him in earnest. “Ignatius, will you give me… her a chance,” she stumbled, silently cursing herself for tripping over her words. “It would mean all the world to me, er… I mean to mother if you would accept.”

Sighing lightly to himself, he looked down at his claw. She was resting hers on his, and he could feel the warmth of her scales against his. It was unfamiliar and alien, yet not an altogether unwelcome sensation. In all his years, he’d never quite known such feminine intimacy before, and was beginning to feel somewhat conflicted. He always thought there would be time enough for such frivolous things later. But later had never come before, and now he was feeling caught.

Removing his claw from beneath hers, he moved slightly away from the dragoness, as he returned to his ale. “Alright, Sapphire,” he said, resigning himself to her desires. “Well move ahead with your proposed ideas.”

“Really?” she asked, sitting up straight with surprise, as any desires she held for the forge master were forgotten, albeit for the moment.

“Yes, really,” he replied, slightly amused by her enthusiasm. “We’d have to do some prototyping anyways before we could begin construction of the Devastation’s mind anyway. You have some unique ideas regarding its construction, and I would remiss if I simply dismissed them out of claw just because they were overly ambitious.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you,” she gushed with excitement. Losing any fear of embarrassment she tightly embraced him as she whispered, “thank you for this opportunity, Ignatius.”

“You’re welcome, Sapphire… I guess,” he stammered, as his cheeks flushed when he felt her soft curves pressing against him. “But do you think you could let go of me now?”

“Oh!” she yelped, flustered and rattled by her forward behavior towards him. Quickly releasing him from her grasp, she tittered with embarrassment. “Sorry, Ignatius, but I was just so excited.”

Trying to hide his flushed cheeks and own embarrassment, he buried his muzzle into his nearly empty tankard, and polished off the remainder of his booze. “Well, if that’s how excited you feel about me agreeing to try out your ideas,” he nonchalantly said, while warily eyeing the dragoness. “I’d hate to see what you do when I told you I was planning on placing you in charge of the prototyping process.”

When she heard the news, she had to hold herself back from planting a deep kiss right on his scaly muzzle. “Oh, this is more than I could have ever hoped for,” she replied in gratitude. Thankful that she finally had an opportunity to shine.

“Don’t thank me, Sapphire,” Ignatius said, putting down his tankard beside his unfinished soup, which he was sure was quite cold by now. “If you must thank somescale, thank our mother, she seemed rather keen on seeing what you’re capable of.”

“I promise you, Ignatius, I won’t let you down,” she said with an earnestness he’d not heard her utter before.

“Good, Sapphire. I’ll be holding you to that,” he said, eyeing the remains of their meal. “So tell me again about this newfangled manufacturing process you want to try.”

Looking down at dishes in front of them, she snapped her claws to get the attention of the help so they could settle their bill. “Ignatius, I think this is hardly the place to continue our discussion,” she said, giving him a flirty look as she gestured towards the various plates, bowls, and tankards before them with her claws. “Perhaps we could move our meeting to someplace more conducive to the subject at hand.”

“Where would you like to go?” he asked, wondering what she had in mind.

“Maybe your place?” she asked, giving him slight smile.

“My place…” he murmured, disappointed that she’d returned to flirting with him, rather than taking the new responsibility he’d just given to her with the seriousness he felt it deserved. “Why not yours?”

“Mine? Don’t be silly, Ignatius,” she said, releasing a slight laugh. “I don’t have a workshop or own quite nearly as many tools as you do.”

Feeling relieved that Sapphire had no further intentions towards him this night, he let out a relieved chuckle. “Yes, I don’t know what I was thinking,” he agreed, getting up from the table, and leaving behind a small stack of bits that bore the Slave King’s image.

“That is unless you were wanting to discuss something of a more intimate nature with me?” she teased, leaving the question hanging over his head.

“Come on, Sapphire,” he growled in annoyance at her antics, as he walked towards the tavern’s wooden door. “Time to show me the grandiose plans you have for my arcanum and crystals.”

With a lighthearted chuckle, she nodded as she followed after him into the dark streets of the Neo Vale.

*****

She stood before the gates of the great city alongside her companions. The weathered stone walls of the city towered above her, while the arcanum iron gates barring their way were a grim reminder to all who it was that was master of this foreboding and dreary place. Compared to her previous home in Bones Landing, this city seemed to lack any color beyond the grey and muted earth tones that comprised its walls.

She supposed the differences were due to the seaponies love for the colors of the sea. Bones Landing’s walls had been whitewashed and painted the same shade of light pink that matched most of Marelantis’s coral constructed buildings. While the ramparts adorning the tops of walls had been painted the same shade of blue as the ocean surrounding the seaponies’ capital.

She remembered all the years she’d served in the vanguard as a reindeer battlemage and despaired when she thought about the beautiful city’s likely fate. Her master didn’t seem at all like the kind of buck who would care to keep its current aesthetic. Most likely he would allow the paint to slowly fade the sun and chip from wear, rather than expend the resources to keep the port city beautiful.

Looking at Shadehoof’s roughhewn walls, she wondered if this was to become the eventual end of the city she’d once called home, and despaired that her own beauty would eventually become as jaded as well. She didn’t consider herself in any sense overly vain, but she felt herself beautiful. Ever since she’d been captured, enslaved, and forced to wear her master’s brand, she’d seen so many dark and terrible things.

She’d seen what a decade of service to her master had done to some of her fellow slaves, and shuddered at the thought of sharing in their fates. Poor bucks and does forced to labor away the prime of their lives in the Slave King’s service, performing backbreaking work in his mines and labor camps. Serving in his armies, or even worse serving as tentdoes to satisfy their fellow slaves’ wanton lust pent up libidos. She only counted herself lucky that she’d been spared from such a horrible fate.

She supposed had the sacking of Bone’s Landing been completed, she’d would’ve been just one more unknown face in a sea of faceless misery, as her master’s minions went about the foul work of enslaving the inhabitants of the city. But due to the timely intervention of Lord Triton and Princess Celestia, they had all been spared from that grisly fate. Instead she was the only prize that the Slave King had managed to claim from the conflict.

But instead of sending her to some Celestia forsaken pit to dig up gems, or forced to lift her tail for anydeer with two bits to rub together between their hooves, she was elevated to a position of great authority within his court and made part of his inner circle as his cupbearer. She was sure many within and without the Domain of Earth would have given a hoof or two, or even killed for such an opportunity. However, she could only feel bitterness at her fate when she looked at the mark adorning her flank which her master had placed upon her.

She only counted herself lucky had she’d been spared the pain that had been inflicted upon her charge Chrysalis, when she was inducted into the Slave King’s service. The changeling had suffered greatly as a show of their master’s power when she received her brand. She wondered why she’d been spared while her charge had not. She couldn’t fathom why he’d show her mercy, while he was so cruel to so many others. As far as she’d seen, not even his own children were afforded one iota of kindness.

Looking to her feathered folk companion, Melody the Yellow, she wondered how she could so cheerfully serve the Slave King. The harper was scarcely seen without a smile on her lips, and always carried a sunny disposition with her. But regardless of her reasons for serving their dark master, she was grateful for the chance to work with her. A chance to go north to Winter was something she’d never have thought a possibility as long as she was the Slave King’s property.

Looking to the seapony chevaleresse who held the dual colors of the Domain of Earth and their mistress, Princess Luna aloft as their standard, she wondered if she considered the irony of her standing as the vanguard for the Slave King’s emissary. She’d not known the seapony long, but as far as she was concerned, Dame Squall had proven herself when they’d faced the changeling thief together inside the Slave King’s treasury.

Impatiently pawing the road with her hoof, she could only thank Winter her coat was white. Had she been born with a darker coat, the day’s heat would be even more unbearable then it already was. Shaking her antlers once she released a bit of magic through them, suspending an icy haze above her party. Immediately, the ice formed a mist as it melted from heat, cooling them quite nicely.

“Ah, that feels so nice, Gunhilde,” Melody sighed, soaking in the cool mist alighting upon her wings and feathers. Fully extending her yellow wings, she sighed as they flexed, allowing her feathers to spread so she could fully enjoy the cool mist against her skin.

“What’s taking them so long?” Chrysalis whined, irritated by the hot cobblestones beneath her paws and the sweltering heat of the day.

“Just somefeather doing some unnecessary posturing,” Melody answered, looking towards the disguised changeling.

“They should be out her kissing our paws, and begging forgiveness for having the audacity of having us needlessly wait,” Chrysalis retorted, stomping her paw down in annoyance. “Between the four of us, we have the authority of the Slave King three times over.”

Dame Squall gave the changeling turned diamond dog bitch a hard look. “Chrysalis, it’s unbecoming for a representative of your caliber to whine,” she admonished, hoping to shame her into silence.

“Oh is that so, chevaleresse?” she haughtily retorted, annoyed that the seapony thought to correct her. “One can only wonder what your fellows in the Order of the Lawgiver might think about you accompanying us here.”

Hearing her retort, Dame Squall went silent. It was true that unless one knew the circumstances behind her joining Melody’s entourage, it would be reasonable to assume she had betrayed her liege and the order to serve under the Slave King’s banner. But her mission was one blessed by the Lawgiver, and she held no care for any that might naysay her involvement here.

Seeing her discomfort, Chrysalis was about to gloat her victory over the seapony when she felt the discomfort of her brand heating up. “Ouch!” she whimpered before shooting Gunhilde a dirty look. “What was that for?”

“This looks to be a lengthy trip, Chrysalis,” she said in an authoritative tone. “And I don’t want to hear you two arguing every time you open your muzzle, understand?”

Chrysalis ground her teeth in frustration, before nodding her assent to her keeper’s demand. Looking towards Dame Squall, she gave the seapony a sour look before rolling her eyes as she slowly stretched out her paw in an offer of halfhearted reconciliation. For her part Dame Squall gave her traveling companion a sidelong glance, before hurriedly grasping the outstretched paw with her fin.

“It’s pax, Chrysalis,” she said, not quite meaning it, and still slightly miffed at her earlier words.

For her part, the changeling shook the offered fin, as she gave her keeper a thoughtful look. “Alright, I accept,” she agreed, though she kept her distaste for the chevaleresse to herself.

Hoping to lighten the mood, Melody pulled out her lute and began lightly strumming it as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. Absentmindedly plucking its strings she turned to her companions. “So have any of you ever been to Shadehoof before?” she asked in between notes.

“Can’t ever say I have,” Gunhilde said, looking up at the towering walls before them. Bones Landing is much further south, and relations between the Domain of Earth and Domain of Water were never warm enough to allow for inland travel.”

“Me either, Melody,” Dame Squall added, resting their banner against her shoulder. “Before the siege at Bones Landing, I’d only ever gone ashore to Equestria a few times in my life.”

Looking towards Chrysalis, the harper gave her a curious look. The changeling hadn’t yet spoken, and she was curious as to why. “What about you?” she asked, accentuating her question with a playful chord from her lute.

Giving the feathered folk harper a slight smirk, she shook her head. “I’ve never even been outside the vicinity of the Diamond Vale before,” she lied, before turning towards Gunhilde. “So how long do you think it will take us to charter a ship to head towards Autumn?”

“With any luck, only a few days,” Melody replied, tapping her foot in time to her music.

“If need be I can inquire at the order’s chapterhouse,” Dame Squall volunteered. “There’s been some increased slaver activity lately, and smuggling via ship has always been their favored method of moving their cargo.”

“But don’t you think asking knights of the Lawgiver for aid might be problematic?” Gunhilde pointed out, wondering what help they could possibly expect to receive from the Domain of Earth’s bitterest rival. “There might be a ceasefire between our domains for now, but there’s no love lost between them.”

In answer, Dame Squall removed the token of the Lawgiver affixed to her armor and showed it to her companions. It shone with a silvery light, testifying to the valor of its owner. “All knights of the Lawgiver know and respect the bearers of these tokens,” she explained, expounding on the token’s significance. “We are honor bound to aid a fellow knight when they require our aid.”

“Would those offers of aid be extended to your traveling companions as well?” Chrysalis asked, wary of having to accept assistance from seaponies, let alone knights of Lawgiver.”

“Well it mostly depends on whether or not the token bearer vouches for you,” Dame Squall explained, reattaching the token to her armor. “But usually it’s not an issue, unless that is you’re an enemy of the order.”

“Well what would you consider three members of the Slave King’s inner circle to be?” she retorted, chiding her for her naiveté.

“Listen here, you!” Dame Squall growled, displeased by her impertinent tone.

“Hey, break it up you two,” Melody said, pointing her lute accusingly at both of them. “We’ll work on one problem at a time. We still have to get into the city you know.”

“You would think that bearing the Slave King’s banner would enough,” Chrysalis grumbled, desperately wishing to escape the oppressive mid-morning heat.

“Some of the Slave King’s servants think themselves above the rest,” Melody explained, lightly strumming her lute. “Their distance from the Slave King’s watchful eye has made them puffed up and arrogant.”

“But Shadehoof is ruled by the Triumvirate Council,” Dame Squall interjected, wondering what the holdup could possibly be. “Surely one of the other entrances might be easier to enter through?”

“No, I don’t think so,” she answered, thinking back to what had happened on the Lonely Road before her father’s wedding to Princess Luna. “The city’s in lockdown. Apparently somefeather was discovered smuggling slaves out of the city using forged documents.”

“Maybe we should try bribing our way in,” Chrysalis suggested, gesturing towards Gunhilde’s saddlebags. “The writ of acquisition we hold, is worth nearly unlimited bits.”

“Harmony would have your head if she heard you talking like that,” Melody said with a wry grin. Looking at her well worn lute she frowned when she remembered how her sister had denied her desire to use the writ to buy a new one. “Besides it’s useless to us until we can show it to somefeather at the Shadehoof branch of the Arcanum Bank.”

“So will it really work?” Dame Squall asked, wondering if the writ would really be honored at every bank.

“Yes it will,” Melody replied, as she reached into her satchel. Pulling out a dull silver coin, she held it up to show them. On its face was the Slave King’s image, engraved on the back were the words which might as well have been considered the Domain of Earth’s moto, The Earth is Generous. “Everyfeather knows that as far as money is concerned, the Slave King’s word is stronger than arcanum steel. He always keeps his word, pays his debts, and collects what he is owed. Because of this, the Arcanum Bank has always been trusted to protect any money deposited with them.”

“Even with the other great banks and trading houses?” Dame Squall asked, knowing how cutthroat the merchants of the Domain of Water could be. “You’d think that as fierce competitors, the other great banks would refuse to honor it.”

“To banks, trust and free flowing currency are like soldiers to an army,” Melody explained, returning the coin to her satchel. “Even if the other banks refused to do business with the Arcanum Bank, it would still do business with their customers, and honor any writs presented to them.”

“But wouldn’t they lose money that way?” the seapony pointed out, slightly confused by how the banking system worked.

“Perhaps in the short term,” Melody continued, returning to her lute. “But as their trustworthy reputation grew, so did their clientele.”

“And their clientele’s bits as well, I gather,” Chrysalis said, nodding in approval of the system that the Arcanum Bank used. Her master was indeed wise. Taking a small immediate loss to reap future gains was an excellent strategy, and increased her estimation of his cunning.

It wasn’t much different from how the hive operated in the collection and dispersal of their harvested victim’s affection. True some could game the system, or even try setting up a competing distribution system. But the hive’s current method for the collection and dispersal of emotional energy was too efficient to have any competition. So too should any bank refuse to do business with the Slave King’s Arcanum Bank, they would find themselves on the losing end in short order, as his bank managed to siphon away their former clients’ business and money.

Looking up at the sun overhead, Gunhilde impatiently shook her antlers in frustration. It had been just before dawn when they had arrived, and now it was nearing midmorning. Normally she’d not get so riled up over waiting, but it been several hours already. Surely those running the city couldn’t expect to keep emissaries of the Slave King waiting forever, could they?

Deciding that she’d had enough, the reindeer approached a smaller door besides the main gate. Smartly rapping her hoof against it three times, she didn’t even bother waiting for somedeer to answer.

“In the name of the Slave King, open up the gate!” she shouted, as she charged her antlers with magic. Feeling her master’s power and authority flowing through her brand, she was prepared to knock down the gates of Tartarus if need be.

She was about to shout out a challenge, when the door’s cuff port slid open. “I already told you lot once, you’ve got to wait until the governor approves your passage!” a gruff voice said, from behind the sealed door.

“Balderdash!” Gunhilde replied, looking into the opening as she angrily glared at the pony guard who was barring their entry into the city. “Open up the gate or I’ll fly over the wall and give you a good thrashing.”

“Little missy,” the stallion derisively snorted at the notion that a mare could best him. “You don’t get to give me orders. The governor ordered the gates sealed until further notice, and that’s what I intend to do.”

“You dirty son of a whor…” Gunhilde growled, furious that she was being dismissed, before she was interrupted by Melody’s calm and even tone.

“Please,” Melody said, approaching the cuff port. “Our mission is of great importance to the domain and the Slave King.”

Seeing the Slave King’s court harper standing outside his gate softened his resolve, but the guard stood firm and refused to budge. “I’m sorry, but I can’t open the gate until I get the okay,” he apologized, before giving Gunhilde a dark look.

“But it’s almost midmorning,” Melody said, pointing towards the sun overhead. “Surely, you must have merchants and travelers that need to leave and enter the city.”

“Sorry, but all traffic has been placed on hold, per the governor’s order,” he explained, sliding a paper through the cuff port.

Grabbing the document, she began reading it. Apparently due to her actions in uncovering the forged documents earlier that week, the Triumvirate Council had voted to bar any further entry from the Domain of Earth or exit from the city until they had discovered who was responsible for the forgeries she’d reported.

Deciding that they’d wasted enough time already, Melody decided to stretch the truth a bit. “Our master, the Slave King, has sent us here for this very reason,” she said, looking the guard in the eye.

“Then why didn’t you say so?” the earth pony asked, shaking his grey mane in agitation, slightly worried he’d impeded official Earth Domain business.

“As you can probably guess, our mission is of a rather sensitive nature,” she whispered conspiratorially, hoping to draw the stallion into her confidence. “The fewer who know anything about it, the better for everyfeather involved.”

He nodded in agreement, he’d heard the stories and rumors about what happened to those who crossed the Slave King or his servants. “All right you can all enter…” he said, to the relief of everyone there, before adding. “Provided you can show me the paperwork proving your mission.”

When they heard his requirement, the four of them let out a lengthy sigh and murmurs of complaint. Melody pursed her beak for a moment as she searched her satchel for something that might satisfy the guard’s requirement.

Chrysalis seeing that everyone else had failed, decided to try her paw at convincing the stallion with her unique talents. Approaching the gate, she looked to Melody. “Allow me to convince him for you,” she offered, giving both the harper and her keeper a wry smile.

“Alright, Chrysalis,” Melody agreed, moving out of the way.

Standing before the cuff port, she stood before the guard with poise and grace. “I can show you our authentication,” she offered, giving the stallion a polite smile. “However, we’ll need to do someplace where nohound else can see us.”

“How do you propose to do so out there?” the guard asked, noting there was little in the way of privacy outside the gate.

“I thought you could allow just me to enter,” she replied, offering him a seductive look. “I promise you if you find my authorization lacking, we’ll be happy to continue waiting for the governor’s permission to enter.”

Looking Chrysalis over, the guard noted she was quite comely for a bitch, and thought she was most likely one of those high priced tentmares he couldn’t ever afford to visit after hours. He smiled to himself as he imagined that she wished to seduce him into letting them into the city. Of course he would take her offered bribe, before denying her request and kicking her out to rejoin her companions.

Deciding that she would do quite nicely for a welcome distraction, he decided to take her up on her offer. “Alright,” he agreed, closing the port cuff and unlocking the door. “You can come inside. This gatehouse is secluded, so you can show me your authorization without worrying about our privacy.”

“Good, it will be so nice to get out of this oppressive heat.” she purred, flashing the guard an appreciative smile.

“Chrysalis,” Gunhilde warned, concerned the changeling might spoil their chances in convincing the guard to let pass through the gates.

“Don’t worry, Gunhilde,” she replied, confident in her abilities to see them through. Walking past her party, she gave them a playful wave as the door closed behind her.

Studying the gatehouse, she noted that it was secluded just as her host had promised. Which was perfect for her needs in persuading the guard of the urgency of their mission. She could sense his lustful appetite, and sweetly smiled at him. It had been quite some time since she last fed from Gunhilde, and a little lust would tide her over until she could frequent one of the city’s many whorehouses. She was sure should she choose to indulge him, that he would offer her ample nourishment. However, she had something a little different in mind towards entertaining her most gracious host.

“So where would you like to do this?” the stallion asked, not even bothering to hide his eagerness for what was to come. “We have a couch available, if you like.”

“A most generous and appreciative offer,” Chrysalis said, seductively licking her lips. “However, what I have in mind, is a bit different then what you seem to have planned for me.”

When he heard her response, immediately his ears and face grew flush with desire as his mind filled with all kinds of debaucherous thoughts. He couldn’t believe his luck, this little minx was probably going to offer him an extremely carnal and exotic experience in the hopes of swaying him. Thinking about what they might shortly do together almost tempted him enough to allow her and her companions entrance into the city.

“May I have your name please?” she sweetly asked, doing her best to melt his heart.

“Oh, of course, ma’am,” he said, feeling eager to begin their little bit of fun together. “The name is Sergeant Tough Nut. But feel free to call me Tuff.”

“Oh, I will. Are you a tough nut to crack?” she teased, as she drew closer to him.

“Why don’t you come a little closer and find out, cutie,” he flirted, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, a cutie am I?” she playfully huffed. “Well, I need you to close your eyes for me if you would, sergeant.”

“Oh, a surprise,” he said with a grin, before closing his eyes. “Hopefully I’ll enjoy it.”

“I’m afraid you won’t, Sergeant Tough Nut,” a rough, guttural voice answered.

Opening in eyes in surprise, the pony nearly fainted in fear with what he saw standing before him. Less than half a length from him stood a doomhound. Where once there was a comely and lovely bitch, now stood one of the Slave King’s most feared servants. Afraid for his life, he trembled before the muscled beast of sharp claws and teeth.

When she saw the guard was refusing to answer her, she approached him, allowing her heavy pawsteps to echo inside the gatehouse. “So tell me, sergeant,” Chrysalis asked, flashing her sharp teeth at him. “Did you enjoy your surprise?”

“No… no I didn’t,” the stallion stammered, wishing he’d never agreed to let her inside.

“I wonder how many others you’ve allowed inside your post?” she mused, circling around the terrified pony. “Should word of your transgression reach the Slave King, I imagine entertaining a doomhound will be least of your worries.”

“Ye… yes, ma’am,” he stammered, desperately wishing he was anywhere else but here.

Waiting for the sergeant to answer for himself, she inhaled deeply through her nostrils. “Why have you kept me waiting, Tuff?” she demanded, tilting her head accusingly at him. “I thought you were planning on having your way with me, before denying my group entrance to the city.”

“I’m not sure…” he replied, backing away from her.

“Not sure of what exactly, Sergeant?” she hissed, eliciting a sharp squeal digging as she drew her claws against the stones beneath her paws.

“I don’t know, I’m not sure,” he shouted, nervous and unsure of what to do.

“You know, sergeant, I could have been a changeling infiltrator or who knows what else,” Chrysalis chastised, dressing down the poor stallion. “An expensive mistake, considering what has happened these past few weeks.”

“You mean Bones Landing, ma’am?” he said with dread, realizing he just might be moments from death, courtesy her jaws and teeth.

“Exactly, sergeant, and even more,” she continued, thrumming her claws against the flagstones beneath her. “There was an attempted assassination and theft within the Slave King’s palace recently.”

Hearing her words, made the stallion’s grey coat go nearly white with fear. He was certain the doomhound was going to kill him now for his dereliction of duty, he just knew it. “Please forgive me!” he shouted, groveling before her as he shivered with terror. “It won’t happen again. I swear it.”

“Normally, it’s expected of us to provide correction to those who’ve strayed into a dereliction of their duty…” she said, mulling over what she was planning on doing with him. “But my companions and I don’t have the time to discipline you.”

“Oh thank you, thank you…,” he said with relief as he saw the doomhound transform back into the sexpot bitch he’d invited into the gatehouse. “I’ll let your party through…”

“Good, speak of this to nohound,” she warned as she flashed him a grin which showed off her pearly white canines.

Waiting impatiently by the door, she gave him an expectant look. Realizing she was waiting for him, he rushed to her side to let her out before he activated the lever to raise the gate. As soon as his guest had left, he shut the door and locked it behind her, before breathing a sigh of relief.

Offering her companions a haughty smile and friendly wave, she gestured them to join her in front of the raising gate. “We came to an understanding,” she said, when she saw their questioning looks.

“But how?” Dame Squall asked, perplexed how easily she’d convinced the guard to let them pass.

“You just need to know how to talk to hounds, and they become putty in your paws,” she remarked with a playful smirk, as they walked into the city through the now open gate.

Hmm… the seapony murmured to herself, wondering if she might learn Chrysalis’s secrets for herself.

*****

With the sun at his back, he could see his destination on the far horizon. Like a sheet of vibrant blue glass, the Western Sea stretched endlessly before him for miles. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply and smelt the distinctively salty scent coming from the sea. To him it meant that he was finally free. At last, all his lost years came rushing back to him in an instant, and he felt young once more. Stretching out his arms wide, he exhaled and felt all his sorrows abandoning him.

He felt the cool sea breeze washing over him, blowing through his greying beard and hair as he silently thanked his companion for all her help in getting him here. She had been so generous and kind to him, the first kindness he’d ever known from a stranger in over a decade. He owed her everything, for she’d healed and dressed his wounds, offered him respite and succor, and even his life. But most importantly, she offered him a hope for the future. Which until he’d met her, he’d sorely had little of.

Oh sure, he’d spent the better part of a decade plotting and scheming his escape from bondage, and had even succeeded. But he’d only ever given serious consideration to escaping his master’s clutches, and honestly had no idea what to do with himself once he’d fulfilled his centuries old promise to his long passed family. After all, he couldn’t simply book a flight or hail a taxi to take him back to his homeland in Phoenix.

Thinking of the city he’d called home before he’d had either the fortune or misfortune of coming to this magical place, he smiled when he thought of the irony of returning to Phoenix on a phoenix. But then the realization of how much time had passed since he’d last seen the land of his birth struck him, and his head fell. Even if he could somehow manage to find a way and open the sky to return him from whence he came, what would be left for him there? It had been over five centuries since he’d last been there. Would the city even still be standing? Would his nation?

If he could return home, what then of his darker half, what would become of him? He knew he desired to redeem him, if not only for the Slave King’s sake, but his own. After all, he was the only living relative he had left. How could he willingly abandon him to the hellish existence that he’d made for himself? Surely he might be made to see reason if he could somehow speak with him privately, maybe even convince him to repent for his misdeeds.

After spending last night with Suzaku he’d felt something awaken deep within him. At the time he wasn’t quite sure what it was, but now he had an inkling of an idea. Maybe a bit of what had made the Slave King divine was within him as well. Suzaku had said he wasn’t quite an ordinary man anymore, or wayfarer as she’d called him. The more he ruminated upon the hunger he’d known that night, the more certain he grew of the theory he held.

Something’s changed within me, he mused to himself, as the shoreline drew ever closer.

But what could one man possibly do against the power that the Slave King possessed? From what he’d gathered the Domain of Earth had only increased in strength since he’d deposed it of its former master, Lord Darkpaw. His army was great, and with total mastery over the Earth, he was sure he possessed wealth without measure. Could a single person actually make a difference against such odds, he didn’t know. But Snowe had always called him an eternal optimist.

Thinking of his adopted, mottled white and grey, griffin brother, he grew nostalgic. He wondered what he might say if he knew he was traveling with such a beauty, managed to have caught her eye, and had even lain with her.

Probably, King, you hairless monkey, what are you doing shooting the breeze with me for? Don’t let her get away from you... he fondly thought to himself, as he imagined Snowe congratulating him on his good fortune.

He found it quite tempting to follow his brother’s advice. After all what else did he have to look forward to? Eking out a living in the wilds alone or in some forgotten backwater, constantly looking over his shoulder and praying he wasn’t discovered by the Slave King’s minions? No, maybe he should accept Suzaku’s offer once he’d finally made his peace with Snowe’s and Little Bleu’s passing. He might be happy.

Running his fingers through her fiery red feathers, he smiled as he imagined what kind of life they might have together. He could easily live in idle luxury, entertaining her in her palace. Who knows, she might even be able to teach him how to use the spark he’d felt burning within himself. Then once he had a means of defending himself, he might be able to confront the Slave King with his new found power.

But what of rest of them? he wondered to himself, as he tried his best to remember all the unfamiliar faces he’d seen judging him as he stood within the waters of the Well of Eternity.

It was still mostly a blur of faces, and he tried in vain to remember who his enemies might be. He wondered if he sought out refuge amongst their number, would he find welcome and fellowship, or half sheathed knives and murderous intent. It was a gamble that held perilous stakes if he choose who to trust poorly. Even his companion, though he was certain bore him no ill will, could be a liability if she decided to be more forceful in her pursuit of his heart.

Looking at the waves crashing on the shore below them, he clutched her tightly as a sense of vertigo threatened to overwhelm him. They were nearly there now, and although flying had made short work of what would’ve been an otherwise lengthy journey across the unforgiving wastes and badlands of the Domain of Earth, he would be grateful to finally find his solace in the security of solid ground beneath his feet.

He caught his breath as he felt her banking sharply to the right as she descended to land. He saw their shadows casted upon the waves and smiled. He was here, finally free at long last. Free to fulfill the promise to those he owed his life and freedom. Free to finally mourn and bury those who’d he’d been forced to leave behind. Free to remember and celebrate the familial bonds they’d held with each other. Free to leave the sorrows and shadows of the past behind him, to start upon the path that led to a brighter future, and free to embrace the happiness it might offer him.

Should he return to the place that had brought him such pain and grief, he’d not yet decided. But for today, he would mourn and laugh, weep and smile, and above all… he would live. Not only for himself, but for his brother Snowe, whose wisdom he sorely missed. The griffin who he’d doomed by his cowardice and weakness to toil in enslavement beneath the whip for nearly a decade. The unlikely friend whose compassion and forgiveness had shown him how to be brave and fresh courage take. The brother who’d inspired him, even in the depths of despair, to never give up for himself and for her.

Oh, his Little Bleu, if only she could be here alongside him this day, basking in the sweet air of freedom, he’d gladly give up the rest of his days. He wondered that if she’d managed to escape with him, what sort of life they might’ve had together. What sort of man she’d choose to marry, the children she might’ve had. He felt himself getting misty eyed at the thought of holding them.

Her coat was nearly the same shade of blue as the water beneath them, her mane was as the heavens, and she possessed eyes that sparkled like gemstones. She was his daughter and he her father. His reason for enduring the daily beatings. His strength to carry on. Thinking of her, he face grew wet with tears, and he cried unashamed.

When he felt his companion flare out her wings, he lurched forward as she lightly touched down on the sandy beach. Looking behind them, he saw the sun shining brightly as it made its ascent into the sky. He saw the untamed wilds they had passed through to reach here. He saw all the suffering and hardship he’d been forced to endure, and turned away. Looking out at the sea unfolding before him, he felt as if he were in a dream. Out there within his reach was the Western Sea. All he had to do was dismount and set foot within the cool waters, and his task would finally be complete.

“My love, are you all right?” he heard Suzaku ask, as she released her magic’s hold upon him.

Dismounting from her back, he stood upon the sandy beach and faced her. She wore a look of concern on her face as she studied him. Placing her wing against his cheek she gently caressed it. Staring into her ruby eyes, he smiled and offered her a look of gratitude.

Saying nothing he silently nodded, as he wiped his reddened eyes against the back of his hand. Looking towards the gently crashing waves on the beach, he felt his heart ache. By all rights they should’ve been here alongside him to celebrate their freedom. He should’ve been here, she should’ve been here. But they weren’t. They were centuries long dead, and he was all alone. He shook as he tried stilling his tumultuous heart.

“Elrey, you’re not alone, love,” he heard her say, as she pulled him into a tight embrace.

Her words were all it took. He fell to his knees and quietly wept.

She said nothing more, simply content to comfort him in his hour of need. The two sat upon the beach together in silence, content to soak in the serenity of the cove. It was then that he who was alone, was alone no longer. As the sun bore down upon them, they rested against each other and basked in the stillness of this sacred place, as the tide rose against this once lonely windswept shore.

*****

His head broke through the water’s surface. With water dripping from his face and beard he inhaled deeply, he found himself coughing a little as he’d nearly inhaled some salt water in his haste to breathe. Laying on his back, he floated and bobbed along the surface as he allowed the currents to carry him wherever they might go. It felt wonderful, relaxing while he bobbed effortlessly atop the gentle waters of the cove. Rolling his head to the side, he saw her laying on the sandy shore with her wings fully spread out, basking in the warmth of the sun’s rays.

When he advised her that he wished to swim alone, she’d objected. She’d been worried that he might drown as he swam unattended in the gentle waters of the cove. Offering her a compromise, he agreed to stay within her visual range as he swam. Lazily paddling in a wide circle, he looked up at the sun and closed his eyes.

He’d finally done it, he’d fulfilled the promise that he’d made to them. To swim in the Western Sea beneath Celestia’s sun and Luna’s moon, and then wait for them to join him beneath the shade of a green tree. Looking back up, he noted that it wasn’t quite midday yet. He looked at his pruney fingers and decided it was now time to head back to the shore. Although he was glad that he’d finally kept the promise he’d made all those centuries previously, he realized that he’d not really enjoyed the experience.

The salt water burned his eyes and was making his skin itch. He supposed the sentiment had been a nice one, but in the end had been a rather underwhelming experience for him. Once he’d swam beneath the moon later that night, he decided that he’d stick to hot springs from then on. They were something that he’d always enjoyed attending with them during their days of rest. Stroking with his arms and kicking with his legs, he swam through the water as well as anyone could be expected who’d had as little practice swimming as he had.

Reaching out with his toes, he felt himself touch bottom and began awkwardly walking through the water towards the shore. Looking behind him, he wondered if any seaponies were watching, and if they were, what they'd make of him if they saw him. To date the only seapony he could recall having seen was within the scrambled memories he held of the Lord of Water, Triton the Lawgiver, the seapony god who’d confronted him after he’d set foot within the waters of the Well of Eternity.

He knew that the Lawgiver and the Slave King were rivals, if not cold warriors at best. He wondered what the seapony deity might do to him, should he be discovered. He felt a cold chill running through him. Out here in the open water he’d be easy prey for a shark or one of the larger predators that inhabited the Domain of Water. Feeling disquieted by his realization, he moved towards the shore as quickly as he could. For he didn’t want to have walked through hell and back to fulfill the promise, only to become some fish’s meal in the end.

Now in waist deep water, he felt more at ease. Surely all he had to worry about in such shallow waters was stubbing his toes on a rock, or having them nibbled on by a passing fish. He saw his companion waving to him as she approached the water’s edge with a large towel in tow. Seeing her standing there waiting for him warmed his heart. He felt the scales of his indecision tilting more in her favor. He imagined should he choose her, their life together would be quite a happy one.

Perhaps I should leave the Slave King to the Pantheon’s judgment, he thought to himself, as he reconsidered his earlier idea of trying to convince the frightful god of the error of his ways. Even if I could confront him, what could I possibly do beyond flapping my gums?

Suddenly he felt something brush against his leg. Looking down, his eyes went wide with shock as he saw a monstrous tentacle beginning to wrap itself around his leg. Before he could cry out in panic, he felt himself getting pulled beneath the waves, and being dragged away from the shore into the watery depths of the cove.

Struggling against his attacker, he saw a bright flash of red light above the water, which he supposed was Suzaku readying herself to come rescue him. Thrashing in desperation against the tentacle which held him beneath the water’s surface, he nearly gasped when he saw a second tentacle reaching out to further restrain him. Slamming his fists as hard as he could against the unyielding flesh of his assailant, he fought in vain to regain his freedom.

Running out of both time and oxygen, he pulled against the tentacle in a desperate bid to return to the surface for air. Shaking his head in frustration, he kicked as hard as he could while trying his damnedest to pull away from his restraints, as he tried clawing his way to the surface. Without any options and nearly out of breath, he was about to give up and welcome his watery grave and oblivion, when he felt himself being pulled upwards out of the water.

Breaking the surface, he felt himself being flung up high into the air. Gasping for breath, he looked around in surprise as he saw Suzaku battling a massively multitentacled sinuous terror. The relief he felt at being able to breathe freely was short lived however, as he saw the beast’s open maw beneath him. Suzaku was trying to reach him, but was being held at bay by the creature’s numerous tentacles.

Magical flames burned in her wake, as fire danced along the length and breadth of her wings and plumage. Screeching a cry of challenge, the phoenix launched a volley of fireballs against the beast’s scaly hide. But to no avail, her flames had little effect. For all her power, all she’d managed to do was release clouds of steam as the sea snuffed out her attack and enrage the creature even further with her assault.

Now at the apex of his short lived flight, he began falling towards the beast’s waiting jaws. Seeing his impending death rushing headlong towards him, he felt oddly at peace. At least he’d had the chance to fulfill his promise to them. The promise… to him, to her. To his Little Bleu.

Then it hit him with all the force of a collapsing mountain, complete and utter clarity as to what had happened to them back in the mines. To his brother, to his daughter, to himself. It was then that his inner peace gave way to something he’d not yet had a chance to know since his resuscitation. Anger.

Anger towards the ones who’d robbed him of his family, of Snowe and Little Bleu. He could feel it within him, the power. All he had to do was stretch forth his hand, and all who’d ever wronged him would be ended. He could rend the Earth in twain and be done with it. He was sorely tempted to, the beast beneath him drew ever closer as he fell, and it would be the first to suffer his wrath.

But then he saw Suzaku break through the writhing mass of tentacles, flying towards him with all the speed she could muster. Without a second thought, he reached out towards the divine spark he’d felt within her breast last night, and was pulled into her talon’s hold. Seeing them escape its clutches, the beast angrily slapped its tentacles against the water in a fury as it was robbed of its dinner.

He felt himself getting deposited on the beach a safe distance away from the water’s edge. Short of breath and panting, he looked up and saw Suzaku release a cry of anger as she launched a wave of flames to drive the creature away from them.

Sitting up, he spat out the sand which had managed to get inside his mouth. Brushing away the wet sand that was stuck to his arms and chest, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was still alive.

“Elrey love,” Suzaku said, pressing him against her breast. “I was so worried for you!”

“Ah, thank you, Suzaku,” he replied, relaxing in her embrace. “I thought I was a goner for sure.”

“You’re safe now, my love,” she sighed, holding him tightly with her wings.

He felt her tremble as she choked back a sob.

“I thought you were going to die,” she cried, wetting his neck with her hot salty tears. “I don’t know what I would do if you were to be killed.”

“I’m safe now,” he reassured her, trying his best to comfort her. “We’re both safe.”

Looking worriedly towards the sea, he wondered if it was still safe to camp here.

Sensing his fears, Suzaku offered him a reassuring smile as she dabbed her eyes with a silken kerchief. With a melodious chirp, her eyes flared with a vibrant red light. “Elrey, we’ll come to no further mischief here,” she said, stroking his back with her wing. “The wards I just placed will protect us from harm.”

Before she’d uttered the words he knew it. He’d felt her power as she released it into her wards. The power she possessed which he’d latched upon as he fell, he could still sense it. The spark she held within her radiated a comforting warmth, and he was loathe to release it. But looking into her ruby eyes, he saw the care which she held for him reflected back at him, and so released it.

Offering her companion a warm smile, she returned to the blanket she’d been sunning on, and waited for him to join her as she patted the space beside her. Glad for the chance to return to the comfort and warmth she offered him. He sat down alongside her, and enjoyed the heat radiating from her feathers.

“I felt you just now, Elrey,” she began, spreading her feathers as she began preening herself. “I guess you must have some questions for me.”

Nodding in agreement, he rested his hands on his knees. “Yes, I believe I now understand by what you meant last night,” he said, curious to learn more about this new unfamiliar power within him. “About me about being no ordinary wayfarer.”

Straightening a few wayward feathers, she got comfortable and prepared to explain his divinity to him. “Elrey, let me tell you about magic…”

Author's Note

Thank you gentlereader for reading chapter ten of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, as always comments are appreciated.

First, I would like to apologize to all my long suffering readers that have waited so patiently for the next chapter. I found it difficult returning after having stopped writing for so long, but now that I'm writing once again, I feel reinvigorated towards my writing and hope to complete The Heart of Winter, so I begin work on the third and final book in The Book of Water series.

Secondly, I would like to personally thank gentlereaders, shadow206, Felyon, Moongaze14, KnightofZaku, Silver Wisp, A Shady Zebra, Arachne the weaver, and all the others who've sent me letters of concern and well wishes during my extended leave. Your kind words were what pushed me to return to writing, and for that you have my heartfelt thanks. I promise to continue writing for each of your enjoyment, if you promise to read and enjoy what I've written.

Thirdly, I will be leaving the window to ask the Slave King and the others anything your heart desires for another week, before I close it to any further inquiries and post the cast's responses to your insightful inquires.

And now without further ado, gentlereaders we'll continue with this chapter's liner notes.

We find Dawson and his mother finally having a long overdue discussion regarding the Slave King. Although Dawson seems to have accepted his mothers explanation, we can only wonder what the Slave King might say if he had an opportunity to tell his side of the story. Even though he might be grounded, Dawson seems intent on journeying west to Autumn to seek out Lord Raiden's sages. Will he obey his mother's wishes or will he defy her once more and seek an audience with the sages. And what
of Councilor Johan? What could he possibly be scheming now?

Sapphire and Ignatius seem to be getting along swimmingly so far, perhaps all the dragon-half really needed was a push in the right direction. But then again Sapphire seems to be rather brash, with wanting to throw caution to wind and impress everyone with her ideas and skill. Only time can tell if her skills can the pay the bills. Or will Ignatius be left holding the bag, as all her big talk turned out to be nothing but hot air.

Gunhilde and her party were stymied by Shadehoof's governor's edict, but fortunately for them Chrysalis was able to persuade the Sergeant Tough Nut to crack under pressure. We can only wonder if the Governor will be as pliable to her unique form of persuasion. Will our intrepid adventurers manage to find a ship heading north without any further delays, and what will Dame Squall's fellow knight think of her for willingly serving the Slave King?

Elrey, courtesy of Lady Suzaku's assistance, has finally reached the Western Sea to fulfill his promise to his family. But having fulfilled his promise to them, what lies next for our wayfarer friend? Will he return east with Suzaku and the comforts of her Summer Palace, or will seek out his fortunes far afield in lands he has yet to visit? And what of his new found power, might he fall into the same pitfalls and traps that caught his alter ego, Slave King?

Find out the answers to these questions and more, in the next exciting chapter of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, coming soon to computer near you!

Once again, gentlereader, thank you for reading and all your kind words and support. You make writing worthwhile. Until next time!

A Dark Glass, a Clever Trick, the Trap Sprung, Two Not Missed

The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter

A Story by TalonMach5

A Dark Glass, a Clever Trick, the Trap Sprung, Two Not Missed

He stood before the dark mirror feeling seriously vexed. He had issued forth his challenge, and yet the darkened glass before him refused to answer. Scowling, he was about to abandon any further attempts at discourse with the accursed thing, when he happened upon an idea. Turning towards his bed he saw his threadbare sheets. With a low chuckle, he picked up the tattered sheet with his metal hand and held it up for the mirror to see. Knowing that he'd finally trumped his tormentors with his cleverness, he smugly grinned, pleased that he'd so easily outwitted them. Seeing what he was about to do, the darkness within the mirror took on a decidedly darker tint.

Deciding that he'd wasted enough of his time on such a foolish diversion, he quickly draped the tattered sheet over the mirror and turned to face his wife. "They thought themselves so clever," he said, turning to face the covered mirror. "But they have no power here in the Slave King's house."

Seeing him getting so worked up over such an innocuous thing as the mirror, made Princess Luna lay her ears back with worry. "Beloved, indeed thou hast proven thy mettle over the glass," she said, moving between him and the covered mirror. "Come, allow us to see thee to the healing waters of thy bath."

"No, not yet, wife," he said, moving past her to face the covered mirror. "They must know beyond all doubt that I have bested them. I will not stand for them to think to mock me again."

"But, husband, thou art fatigued," she urged, hoping to get him away from the miasmic effects of the foul mirror which seemed to have poisoned his mind nearly unto madness.

He shot her a dirty look. "I refuse to retreat before such an unworthy foe," he growled in annoyance, furious she thought him too weak to win this battle.

Sighing to herself in frustration, the alicorn princess took a deep breath as she shook her cobalt mane once, causing the stars within it to shimmer like the heavens of the eventide. "Surely thou art victorious," she reasoned, hoping to assuage his increasing paranoia. "Shouldn't thou celebrate thy impressive victory over thine unworthy foe? Come, husband, let thy wife attend to, and reward thee."

He considered her offer as he stroked his beard. True, his wounds weren't fully healed yet, and his muscles ached. Removing Darkpaw's pelt from his shoulders, he placed it on the bureau beneath the mirror. "Perhaps you're right," he agreed, losing the resistance he'd had to the idea of soaking in his mineral bath. Moving towards her, he reached out for her barrel to steady himself. "Wife, would you help me remove my crown?"

Relieved that her husband was no longer fighting her, she nodded once before channeling her divinity through her her horn. Locating the iron within the arcanum, Luna lifted the crown up off his head. Placing it besides his abandoned cloak, she affectionately nuzzled him as she removed her own vestments of power as well. Placing her silver peytral, crown, and horseshoes beside her husband's crown and cloak, she reveled in delight at finally being so intimately close to her far distant husband.

"Come, beloved," she said, with a tilt of her head. "Allow us to celebrate thy victory with thee in thy bath."

He saw her disrobed form, and slightly frowned. This could be one of her tricks to seduce me, he thought, looking at her beautiful and graceful form.

Feeling her silken coat beneath his hand, he felt his face flush and pulse quicken. "Wife, I am bathing and nothing more," he protested, unsure if his words were more for his own benefit rather than hers.

"Of course, husband, if that's all thou desireth from us," she agreed, offering him an enchanting smile as parts of her magically flowing mane and tail gently touched and caressed his arm and leg.

Satisfied that she would respect his wishes, he leaned against her barrel for support as she led him to his bath. Exiting their bedchambers, she led him down one of the hall's of his nearly labyrinth palace. Luna hadn't lived here long, and was still trying to familiarize herself with its layout. The Slave King's ruined palace had paths they led to seemingly nowhere, dead ends and empty rooms lay everywhere, and if she wasn't the mistress of this place would've felt ill at ease traversing its paths unaccompanied by a guide.

Before long, the smell of fresh water hit her nose. The clean refreshing scent was a refreshing change from the dark oppressive shadows that lurked behind every corner of her new home. Walking closer to their destination, the broken tile beneath her hooves gave way to rough stone that had been slowly polished by everyday traffic. The once gorgeous, broken and crumbling stucco walls, covered with once intricate, now ruined murals, abruptly gave way to a large passageway cut out from the surrounding stone. Approaching the end of the roughhewn passage, she stopped before a large brass wall.

Pausing before it, she looked to the Slave King expectantly. "Husband," she inquired, unsure how to bypass the metal wall before her. "Why hast thou barred the way to thy bathhouse, beloved?"

Saying nothing, he reached out with his arcanum hand and touched a finger to the wall blocking their path. Moments later the wall's metallic surface began to ripple where his finger had been. "Wife, we may continue," he said, resting against her.

Looking at the fluid motion of the bronze before her, she gently probed it with her horn to see if the wall would allow her to pass. Effortlessly her horn slid through the wall and into the waiting bath that lay beyond. Knowing she could proceed unhindered, Luna walked forward with her husband in tow, entering his bath for the first time. What she saw inside surprised her. Calling what she saw there a bath would be generous. Like the passageway outside, the floor and walls were all stone, either smoothed and polished by time or wear, she couldn't tell.

Unlike her personal bath back in the Londwhinium palace which was richly decorated completely in marble with silver accents, this bath was little more than a natural hot spring in the center of the room. Hot water bubbled and steamed inside the large pit, as it was fed by two separate streams of water, one hot and one cold. Looking to her husband, she saw a look of serenity plastered on his face. Seeing him so calm brought her comfort. Since from their wedding day, he'd been either grumpy or moody, and it was nice to know he could actually feel something beyond anger.

Closing his eyes in contentment, the Slave King inhaled deeply, allowing the steam vapors to soak inside his lungs. "I must thank you for insisting I bathe, wife," he softly sighed, as his normally harsh and raspy voice gave way to something much softer and gentler. Standing beside her, he slowly disrobed and placed the tattered and threadbare rags he called clothes in a pile on the ground beside his feet. "A nice long soak will feel wondrous."

Walking towards the hot spring's edge, she escorted her husband to the where water met stone. Using her magic, she used it to steady and hold him as he climbed down into the bubbling water. Gazing at his naked form, her cheeks reddened as she remembered their brief wedding night together. He'd kissed her then of his own volition and desire towards her, and had offered her a smile. It was the smile of a stallion who was about to claim his prize. Looking at him now, she saw the same smile gracing his lips.

Ah, she lamented to herself. If but our husband, wouldst smile at us once more. We wouldst be content with his cold indifference for now.

Looking down at the Slave King, she saw him wearing a look of complete serenity. His normally wrinkled brow was relaxed, and the near ever present scowl he seemed to always carry, had been melted away by the bubbling waters of his bath. Looking at him, she decided that he was a stallion without a care in the world, and found herself envying his peace of mind. He seemed to her now, here in this place, as simply a stallion. She couldn't detect the slightest worry or concern slipping from beneath the visage of his peaceful countenance. He wasn't concerned or worried about all those great problems within their shared domain which had plagued him so but a few scant hours earlier. His only concern now, was enjoying the bath's steamy heat, and soaking within the mineral water's warmth.

"Wife," she heard him call out, breaking her from her covetous thoughts. "Why are you standing there alone?"

"We thought thou wouldst prefer us to wait without thy bath," she said, wondering why he'd bothered asking. As far as she knew, he'd expressed precious little desire to share such an intimate activity as bathing together with her.

Laying back against one of the smooth stones lining the edge of the bath, he tilted his head towards her. "Wife, I thought you said you wished to attend to me as I celebrated my victory over the glass?" he questioned her, opening his right eye slightly, allowing the verdant flames trapped within to burst forth from their prison.

Hearing her husband inquiring of her so, gladdened her heart. But worried she was misinterpreting the meaning of his words, by ascribing more to them then what he truly meant. Fearing this, she sought to feel out the intentions of his words.

"Beloved, thou art of good cheer," she said, submissively approaching the large pit which served as her husband's bath as she held her head low. "We desireth not to anger thee needlessly, by intruding upon the blissful solitude this place offers thee."

Sitting up straight, the Slave King looked at his wife, before looked away as if he was mulling over something with his mind. "Wife, er Luna," he said, gesturing to her with his left hand. "This palace, and all within it, is as much yours as it is mine. So if you desire to join me inside the bath, do so if you will."

Taken aback at his unexpected invitation to bathe with him, her heart swelled with happiness. Offering her husband a smile of gratitude, she nodded her assent, and gingerly placed a hoof in the water to test it. As the roiling and bubbling water lapped at her hoof, she felt her worries ebb away into the aether. She placed one hoof in front of the other as she entered the bath, allowing the wondrous waters to slowly submerge her up to her shoulders. As the heat soaked through her dark coat and touched her skin, she could feel all her muscles relax as her troubled spirit grew calm. Truly, this place was a spring of healing and fount of miracles, if it could both calm the souls of, and banish the dark shadows which had been plaguing both she and her husband of late.

Closing her tired eyes, she relished the feeling of owning her own mind once more, for within the waters of the bath she could no longer hear the constant whispering of the foul tempter which had taken up its residence within the sanctuary of her mind. Judging by how relaxed the Slave King seemed to be, he too seemed to be relieved of all his worldly concerns and worries. Like her husband, she no longer felt the constant pressure and worry that had hung around her neck like a great millstone. Within the water of the bath, she needn't worry about the judging gazes of the others on the Pantheon, or the careless neglect of her ungrateful subjects. Resting with in the healing waters of this place beside her husband, she was no longer Princess Luna, the Beautiful, Lady of Night. She was simply, Luna, devoted wife of the Slave King.

Looking to her husband, she wondered if he too felt the same. Well probably not about her, after all he'd desperately resisted the idea of marrying anypony, let alone her. Studying the look of contentment he wore on his burned and heavily scarred face, she wondered what secret thoughts he held within his mind, what dreams he wished for the morrow. But above all, what hopes laid hidden within his heart. Wishing to know him better, she slowly drew closer to him, and rested against him.

Laying her head on his shoulder, she exhaled and released a dreamy sigh. "Beloved," she implored with a voice as gentle as starlight. "What art thou thinking of?"

"Oh, just you, Little Bleu..." he murmured, draping his arm around her. "I've missed you, my love."

"Husband," Luna huffed, hurt that some other unknown mare had managed to capture her stallion's thoughts unbidden. "Whom is this Little Bleu, who thou addresseth with such affection and familiarity?"

Hearing her accusation, the Slave King's eyes shot open. "What did you just say?" he demanded, causing the magical flames in his eyes to flare dangerously.

Startled by his reaction, Luna drew back sharply. Considering her words carefully, she drew in a short breath with a slight hiss."We wert curious as to whom thou hast given thy heart to, beloved," she said, allowing the hurt of his betrayal of their marriage, break through the placid mask of emotion she'd been wearing. "Husband, whom is this Little Bleu thou loveth so much?"

Hearing her demand, he gave her a sour look. "Wife, she's none of your concern," he brusquely replied in a tone that suggested that any further inquiry regarding the matter wouldn't end favorably for anyone.

Hurt that he'd refuse to even answer her simple question, she turned away from him, and moved to exit the bath. As she left its pleasant embrace, any momentary comfort it had offered, departed from her like the soothing water from her silken coat. Giving her stubborn husband one last pleading, sidelong glance, in the hope that he'd reach out to her, to ask her to stay, to do anything, was met with silence. She exited the warmth of the bath in disappointment, sorrowful that he'd chosen to remain mute, while shivering from the chill his cold indifference had sent piercing through her wounded soul and weeping heart.

Seeing her flee in distress, left a bitter taste on his tongue, and a dull ache in his chest. Refusing to look at him, all he could see was her flank, backside, and flowing mane and tail. The weight of her head against him had felt pleasant, and he felt tempted to apologize and ask her to return to his side. But when he thought about the price his apology would exact, he balked at the cost. It was difficult enough to dwell on her without breaking down during his renewals, and he didn't think he could speak of her to another without weeping like a child. As weak as he was now, he was certain should he break his self imposed silence and compromise himself, his wife would be waiting in the wings to bind him up. If that should occur, he was uncertain he could continue steeling himself from accepting what she had been so freely offering him as his wife.

Climbing out of the bath, he struggled to leave it as the weight of the water seemed to be reluctant to release him. With water dripping from his wet beard and hair, and freely running down his pale skin in rivulets, he bent over to retrieve his discarded clothing. Reaching down, he lost his balance, and found himself falling face first toward the slick stone beneath him. Before smashing his face in on the unforgiving stone floor, he felt Luna's magic grab hold of him. Looking down at her helpless husband dangling in the air by her magic, she offered him an annoyed look before helping him stand upright.

"Husband, retrieve thy raiment, and we shalt escort thee back to our quarters," she said, without bothering to look at him any further.

"Wife, forgive my frailty," the Slave King shakily replied, picking up his clothes with greater care. Dressing as quickly as he could, he gave the bubbling waters of his bath one last look before leaning upon her for support once more.

They exited the bathhouse together, each saying nothing, but both wishing the other would break the unwelcome silence first. But beyond the soft plodding of his feet, and muted clopping of her hooves on stone, neither found the courage or strength to speak to the other. Walking forward, he rested his head on her barrel and listened to the beat of her heart as her ears noted his heavy and belabored breathing.

The minutes passed by in silence as they made their way to their shared bedchamber. Walking beside her, he grabbed a fistful of her wet mane and buried himself in its fine and luxurious depths. He stopped and thought back to what had happened between them at the bath. Had he truly called out to her? Inhaling deeply, he caught a nearly forgotten yet all too familiar scent, her scent. Had he still had a heart, it might of stopped. It was almost as if she and not his wife was walking beside him. The smell reminded him so much of her that it hurt. Thinking back to years long passed, he though back to the many bathes that he'd shared together with his family in the many hot springs scattered about the old city, and lightly smiled at the pleasant memory.

The bath, of course! It was her scent mixed with that of the mineral water's which had reminded him of her. Deciding that he should try at least offering her a plausible excuse for his unprovoked outburst, he turned to her. "Wife..." he began, before she offered him a flat look.

"Here we are, husband," she icily said.

Deciding that he'd best wait until Luna had a chance to calm down before trying to talk to her, he decided to say nothing, and entered their room. Moving aside the sheet that was laying on top of his cloak and crown, he picked up Darkpaw's pelt and placed it upon his shoulders. Picking up his arcanum crown, he struggled lifting it over his head, when he noticed the sheet he'd placed to the side. That was the same sheet that he'd used to cover that thrice damned mirror!

Looking behind him, he scanned his surroundings as he searched the room for the fool who'd invaded his inner sanctum. Finding no one, he returned his gaze back to the darkened glass that had mocked him earlier. "Show yourself!" he growled, furious that someone though to mock him further.

"Husband, thou art jumping at shadows," Luna chided, still annoyed at him for his earlier behavior. Levitating her crown and other vestments, she shook her head in disapproval at his paranoia. "Canst thou not see we two art alone together in our quarters?"

Refusing to believe her, the Slave King returned his attention to the hateful mirror which had tormented him so. "They think to toy with me," he seethed, completely forgetting any thoughts he'd had of reconciliation with his wife. Looking down at his metal hand, he balled it into a heavy arcanum fist. "Let us see if they can still laugh at me, once I've broken them."

"Ah, ah," a familiar voice tut tutted at the Slave King for his consternation with the troublesome glass. "Don't you know breaking a mirror is worth seven years bad luck?"

"Who art thou to disturb mine husband's rest?" Luna demanded, her fury against her husband all but forgotten, as she redirected her anger against the one who'd trespassed in their home. Drawing upon her divinity, the alicorn princess's horn cast an ethereal blue light, illuminating both the mirror and the room with her magic. "Reveal thyself, trickster, and beg for mercy, lest we smite thee with a righteous fury!"

"My, my, how rude..." the voice murmured, feigning hurt feelings at her fierce words. "Is that anyway to treat your honored guest?"

"Honored guest, hardly," the Slave King rumbled, trying his best, yet not quite succeeding to sound as intimidating as possible. "More like a pilfering sneak thief."

"A sneak thief? Slave King, you wound me," the voice said with a slight chuckle. "Especially when you invited me into you home with open arms, when all the others wanted to banish me back from whence I came."

"Discord... I should have known," the Slave King darkly muttered, annoyed at himself for having fallen so easily to the spirit of chaos's mischievous pranks. Feeling tired and out of sorts, and wishing to end this exchange with the annoying deity as quickly as possible, he frowned at the mirror. "Reveal yourself, Discord. Tell me what it is that you want, and then be quickly on your way."

"Verily, thou devious schemer," Princess Luna agreed, doubly annoyed at the trickster for having put both she and her husband through so much trouble. "Stay thy lying tongue and state thy business with mine husband, then return posthaste to thy prison in the Londwhinium gardens to trouble our house no further."

"Really now, some folk simply have no sense of decorum or gratitude," Discord's disembodied voice grumbled, before his image appeared within the confines of the mirror. "Fine, you can see me now, happy? So are we all friends again?"

"Wicked tormentor," Luna retorted, stomping her hoof down, having lost the little patience she might have otherwise had for the prankster god. "Deceitful liar, thou knowest no more of friendship then the unmentionable one."

"Perhaps I am, but with your fine example I'm sure I'll get the hang of it soon enough," he said, sticking out his tongue at the aggravated princess.

"Discord, I'm sure your business with me, is of greater importance and urgency than simply annoying my wife," he said, leveling a stern look at the scion of chaos that lay within the dark glass.

Sighing in defeat, he nodded his head in agreement. "Alright, Slave King, you're right, I'm here to do more then simply tease a princess or two," he said as he snapped his claws, making Luna's tiara appear on top of his head. "Though I'll admit it's a perk."

"Discord..." the Slave King warned, hinting that violence might follow should he choose to continue with his antics. "Don't make me banish you from this house."

"Okay, fine," the draconequus harrumphed, disappointed that his fun had been ended so soon. With another snap of his claw Luna's crown was returned to her. Hanging upside down in the mirror, he peeled a banana and began eating it. "I'll tell you why I've been hanging around so to speak. Would you care for a banana, Princess?"

Luna stuck out her tongue in revulsion at the thought of eating such a vile and abominable fruit. "Nay, rogue," she replied, snorting in disgust. "We knowest thou art fully cognizant of the fact that we loathe the detestable things. Now speak true, spreader of misery, before we advise our sister thou hast escaped thy stone prison once again."

"Ouch, harsh," Discord said, clutching his heart, as he pulled free a bloody dagger out from his chest. "Well, Slave King, since the old ball and chain is being such a poor hostess, I better make this quick."

"Go on, we're waiting," the Slave King said, tapping his arcanum finger against the bureau's surface which laid beneath the mirror.

"Good, right to the point. That's what I always liked about you, Slave King," he said with a toothy grin, as both Luna and the Lord of Earth glared at him impatiently. Taking the hint, Discord bowed his head slightly. "I've come about a question, or rather several."

"What's your meaning?" the Slave King asked, wondering what he could possibly be referring to.

"Simply put, they've been asking all sorts of inconvenient questions," Discord continued, gesturing to the dark and murky glass behind him.

"Who has? To whom art thou referring?" both the Slave King and Luna asked in unison.

Satisfied that he'd piqued their curiosity sufficiently, he gestured with his paw for them to move closer to the mirror. "It's them," he whispered conspiratorially.

"What foolishness," the Slave King grumbled, deciding that he'd finally had enough of the trickster's nonsense to last a year, let alone the rest of the day. "Wife, I lack the strength to remove our guest. Do me the kindness of doing it for me."

"With pleasure, mine husband," she said, giving the draconequus a flinty look and malicious grin as she began drawing magic through her horn.

"Okay, wait! I yield!" Discord shouted, hoping to buy himself some time.

Raising his hand to hold back his wife, the Slave King exchange a knowing look with her. Luna nodded in exchange, ready to banish Discord back to his stone prison at a moment's notice if need be.

"I'm not supposed to say anything," Discord said in defeat, motioning for them to come even closer. "But since you've not given me much of an alternative, I'll spill my guts."

Both Luna and the Slave King had their faces near the darkened glass, waiting to hear what the spirit of chaos had to say. After a minute's silence, the Lord of Earth was about to instruct his wife to go ahead and cast Discord out of their Domain. When shadowy tendrils reached out from the dark mirror, grabbed them, before drawing the both of them into its inky black depths. Fighting against their captor, both of them pounded against the mirror which held them prisoner. But for all their strength, the darkened glass may as well have been the strongest arcanum steel, for all the good their struggle did.

Watching their horror at being claimed by the dark depths from the other side of the mirror, the draconequus let out a malevolent over the top laugh as they drowned in a sea of darkness. Finally free of the mirror, Discord took a cursory glance at the Slave King's bedchambers, as he examined the intricately carved stone furniture adorning the room. Tracing a claw along the top of one of the sets of drawers, he rubbed the tips of his claws together looking for dust. Satisfied when he found none, he returned to the mirror, and looked at his own reflection. Pausing the preen his mane, he ran his tongue along his lone fang, as his reflection gave him an approving nod and a thumbs up.

Giving the empty room one last look, he wiped his paw and claw together, satisfied at a job well done. Pulling out a pocket watch, he raised his brow when he saw the time. Putting it away, he snapped his claws, saying as he disappeared to no one in particular. "Well that's two down. Time to collect the rest..."

Author's Note

Thank you gentlereaders for reading this noncanon chapter of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, as always comments are appreciated.

Originally I had planned on just having the Slave King and the others answer your questions in this chapter, but I decided perhaps I could use this little exercise to provide a bit of character development while I'm at it.

I was worried that I couldn't do justice to the Slave King, but I think what I've written so far has kept true to the spirit of the character and overall story. Additionally, i took this opportunity to bring Discord back out to play for a bit. I think you'll enjoy what I have planned for the third and final non cannon chapter of this little experiment.

Since I've extended the non cannon chapters, I think I'll give everyone a bit more time to submit their questions. Feel free to post them either here in the comments or here, and I'll make sure to address your questions.

Just make sure to say who the question is being addressed to so I can have the appropriate character answer you.

Looking forward to writing them for you, gentlereader. See you in the comments!

Find out the answers to your questions and more, in the next exciting noncanon chapter of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, coming soon to computer near you!

Once again, gentlereader, thank you for reading and all your kind words and support. You make writing worthwhile. Until next time!

Chapter 11: A Thickening Plot, a Thickening Stew, a Treacherous Course, Better Make That Two

The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter

A Story by TalonMach5

Chapter 11: A Thickening Plot, a Thickening Stew, a Treacherous Course, Better Make That Two

She languidly laid on the borrowed bed, comfortably stretched out as she lethargically yawned. Opening her maw wide, she pulled back her lips to reveal her sharp and terrible teeth. Although she still felt weak and sluggish, slowly but surely she felt her strength returning to her. She would be glad once she'd finally regained full strength to her atrophied muscles. It had been far too long since she had last exerted her dominance over the shadows of her territory, and she was fairly certain that all the horrors lurking within had forgotten who the true terror truly was.

This feeling of being so weak and helpless, she didn’t like it. Not only was it humiliating to one of her stature to be so afflicted, but she could scarcely intimidate the lesser races into toeing line anymore, let alone protect her lord in this miserable state. Her master was in great peril as never before, she was certain of it. Her instincts demanded that she be at his side, hissing and snarling at all the threats that lurked within the shadows seeking to harm him, and promising a quick death to those malicious and wicked instigators if they drew too close to her fiercesome teeth and terrible claws.

Inhaling deeply, she caught the stale scent of death lingering in the air. The putrefied and rotting remains of the former inhabitants and slain trespassers of the broken city. Ectoplasm and despair, sure signs of the hungry dead and vengeful spirits that haunted the crumbling ruins of the once great city. Greed and fury, proof that more than the restless undead and malicious ghasts could be found lurking in the shadows. But most importantly, the foul odor of treachery. More dangerous than all ten thousand terrors found within the dead city combined, its miasmic corruption befouled everything within and without her master’s palace with its vile taint.

It had been so long since she had last been permitted to purge the treasonous taint from his home. If he’d permit her to, she would gladly ravage and slay all those who carried the scent of betrayal within his domain. But despite all her constant pleading and whining to begin the culling, he would always stay her claws and seal her maw. Oh how she longed to return the days of old, back to when both she and he were still full of rage and new in the world.

Together, they’d had broken the city’s defenses, slain all who’d opposed and oppressed him, and had swept away all those who’d dared resist him like dust in the wind. Thinking of those long since passed, pleasant blood soaked memories of carnage and gore, brought a slight smile to her muzzle. Sighing at the deplorable state of her silken black coat, she began cleaning her fur with her tongue as best she could. Although she couldn’t reach everywhere, it felt good to be able to do something as normal as grooming herself unaided.

Closing her burning red eyes, she released a low purr as she imagined her master’s dexterous fingers running through her fur as he scratched her behind the ears. It was pure bliss, sitting beside his throne and glaring at all those unworthy weaklings who sought supplication from their great and terrible dark lord. At the ones who annoyed him even slightly, she’d bare her fangs and extend her claws with a promise of violence. Those who scraped and bowed before him in fear and trembling she’d derisively sneer at, for there was no place for sniveling cowards in her master’s employ.

But for those few he found worthy, she deigned to nod her head ever so slightly. For if her master found them deserving of respect, she would acknowledge and honor his judgement. Skulking from the shadows she patrolled the hidden paths of their home, ensuring none could enter without his knowledge or permission. Whether it was changeling looters, pony adventurers, or diamond dog traitors, it mattered not. All who trespassed without permission would meet with the same grisly fate.

After making her rounds, she'd always returned to his side without fail. Either at his great throne, the fiery forges of the manufactorium, or her personal favorite, his bedchambers. She longed to return there, guarding him as she slept by his side. Laying her head in his lap, she’d look into his burning green eyes with adoration and be at ease. Even when he took one of those whores into his bed and wasted his strength by laying with them, she was content. For it would always be she, and not they, who would remain at his side the morning after, and for her that was enough.

But now, he’d taken one of those whores as his wife and felt lost. Her master was in danger and she lacked the strength to protect him now. Her spirit was full of turmoil at the thought of them alone together, usurping her place by his side. Whispering lies and falsehoods into his ear, turning him against her. Using her feminine whiles and magic to weaken and corrupt him. Binding him to her, and bending him to her will.

Her new pony whore mistress was his deadliest enemy yet, she was certain of it, and for all his might and power was defenseless against the threat she offered him. Sniffing the air, she smelt the refreshing scent of nature and life that the ponies carried with them. Even now, they were pushing back the shadows and darkness of the dead city with their skills and talents. Her shadows, her darkness.

She despaired at the thought, for without the dark what use was she? There was no place for her kind amongst the ponies and the light they loved so dear. There was no place at her dark lord’s side, not since that pony whore had stolen him away from her. No… she mewled in a mix of sorrow, melancholy, and anger. He would stay hers, even if she had to enter the Pit and slay Tiroc himself to prove her everlasting devotion to him.

Looking to the far wall of the room she was staying in, she tried scrying the shadows to see her beloved master’s face once more. Looking into the depths she only saw the soft twinkling of starlight and the dark beauteous countenance of her new mistress clouding her vision. She thought she saw a smug grin plastered on the alicorn’s muzzle, and wished to banish her happiness by raking her claws against the loveliness of her unparalleled beauty.

Looking away from the one who’d taken all she held dear, she mourned that even her beloved shadows had turned its back on her in favor of someone else. She imagined that pony whore lovingly nuzzling her master in courtship, as she wooed and enticed him to join with her, and whimpered in despair that he would finally be taken away from her forever. Had she possessed any tears to shed, she would’ve wept an ocean full as her broken heart mourned for him.

It wasn’t fair! No one else could possibly know him as intimately as she did. All the unbridled rage and fury he’d possessed had been expended into her unwitting creation. She had served him far more faithfully and steadfastly than any other, and had unwaveringly served him for over five centuries, whereas all the others had failed him. No one else was more worthy of his affection or strong hands than she was, and no one else could possibly ever love him more or far better than she did.

Wishing she could reveal the sincerity of her love and devotion to him, she cursed the cruel oversight of her creation in denying her the ability to speak like others could. Had she possessed the means to, she would’ve crashed the wedding and demanded a chance to fight the usurper for the right to claim her master’s hand as her own. Saving him from those false, duplicitous, and capricious whores that sought to steal him away from her for their own diabolic purposes.

She wouldn’t have even demanded that he exercise his husbandly duties with her. That she was permitted to be by side forever more was all she desired. Remembering the feeling of his hands running through her coat, she felt herself warming at the memory. Had she managed to become his wife she certainly wouldn’t have denied her master his privileges as her mate, if he so desired.

She felt her tail thump against the bed, as her foot began moving of its own accord. Dwelling on the steamy thoughts depicting her enthusiastically serving her master as his wife, she felt her face flush as she grew lightheaded. Letting out a loud purr, she relaxed into the bed as she let out an audible sigh.

“Having a pleasant dream, Nightmare?” a guttural voice asked with a hint of amusement.

Scourge! she accused, furious that he’d caught her in such a state, quickly placing her tail between her legs to hide her shame. Had she the strength, she’d have stood up and stared down the traitor with all the force she could muster. But as it was all she could do is glare at him in annoyance from her prone position on his borrowed bed.

“Nightmare, I take it that you’re recovering well?” the doomhound asked, as his voice reverberated with a ghostly echo.

Traitor, she seethed. Why have you dared approach me unbidden?

“I thought that a little fresh air and exercise might do you good,” he replied, approaching her before stopping and standing a respectful distance away from her.

She considered his offer. It would be a refreshing change to escape this room, even if it was only for a little while. Plus it might allow her to finally clear her head from the heady and licentious thoughts still clouding her mind and warming her nethers.

Very well, traitor, she said, giving the doomhound a contemptuous sneer. I shall allow you to escort me from the room and through the palace as I make my rounds.

“Of course, Lady Nightmare,” Scourge patiently replied, refusing to allow her churlish behavior to rattle him in the slightest.

Bending down, the doomhound waited patiently for Nightmare to grab hold of his arcanum armor. The ethereal blue light emanating from his ghostly form bathed her dark coat, and made her black fur shine. Looking at her as she tried raising herself up, he found himself looking at her in a new light. For a terrible creature of darkness and shadow, she looked quite comely and striking.

Languidly laying before him, the normally taut and powerful muscles beneath her coat appeared rather lithe and supple. Feeling her paw grasping his armor clad shoulder, he could see her flushed face still carried a hint of pink on her otherwise dark cheeks, evidence of earlier embarrassment. Allowing her to press upon him for support, he braced himself as he helped lift her up onto her weak and unsteady legs.

Pausing for a moment to allow Nightmare to catch her breath and recover her meager strength, he looked over his shoulder at her. She stood trembling as she leaned against him for support. Keeping her long tail between her legs, she gave him a hard glare as she made her displeasure regarding his wandering eyes clear.

Keep your eyes to yourself, traitor, she warned, trying and failing to sound the least bit intimidating.

“Of course, Lady Nightmare,” Scourge replied, humoring his churlish charge as best he could. Gesturing towards the door, he offered her a slight bow. “Shall we be off?”

Feeling the heat beneath her tail and smelling the scent of her arousal, she nodded in agreement. Mortified that the traitor had caught her in such state, and in his bed of all places, left her wishing to leave this place as quickly as possible. Placing one shaky paw in front of the other, she leaned against him for support as they slowly made their way from the room she'd considered her prison and had been forced to convalesce in.

Leaving the room together, she felt her formerly fleeing confidence gradually returning to her as the scent of her wanton desires for their master slowly dissipated. Although the scent of her shame had faded, the heat betwixt her legs and beneath her tail had yet to subside. Feeling the cool ectoplasmic light of her escort on her dark coat, she found herself slightly envious of his condition.

Scourge had been slain and returned from the land of the dead. In so doing had lost his corporeal form, and was now little more than a disembodied spirit inhabiting a suit of arcanum armor. Remembering his response to her aggressive advances when she’d pursued him through the city’s abandoned mines earlier, she was certain that he didn’t have to deal with such annoying carnal appetites. Frustrated that her desires for their master would never be fulfilled, she wished she could switch positions with him, if only for a day.

Sighing in annoyance, she leaned against his heavy armor, as they walked through the deserted halls of the Slave King’s run down palace. They walked together in relative quiet, as the echoing sounds of Scourge’s arcanum clad paws and Nightmare’s muffled heavy pawsteps broke the tense silence between them. Guiding her through the palace’s winding paths, the doomhound lead her slowly but surely towards the throne room.

Drawing closer to the heart of the crumbling palace, the broken and defaced bejeweled friezes depicting the once proud and glorious Earth, tattered and dusty tapestries hanging along the walls, and dusty and unkempt rooms, gave way to newly applied plaster and freshly cleaned and repaired carpets and tapestries. Looking at the repairs in progress, she saw piles of gems waiting to be fitted into new friezes that would eventually replace the old damaged and ruined ones.

Nodding appreciatively at the renovations, Scourge stopped for a moment to examine a nearby half completed frieze depicting the Slave King’s ascension from a lowly slave to a god. “Lady Nightmare,” he said, examining the emeralds depicting the Slave King’s burning eyes. “The ponies have certainly done expert work, don’t you agree?”

She derisively rolled her eyes at his words. Who cared how skilled they might be, they were still unwelcome intruders squatting in his domain, violating the sanctity of her home with their overly cheerful and nauseating presence. Had the Slave King desired these repairs, he’d have commissioned them himself. But instead of respecting his desires, the interlopers had seen fit to renovate the palace and gardens without so much as a by your leave.

If I possessed the strength, she grumbled, casting a flinty look at a nearby mason pony busy at his work repairing one of the arches overhead and its supporting columns. I’d drive these trespassers to the slave markets where they belong.

“Nightmare, the Slave King made it clear that the ponies Celestia left behind were to be treated as his honored guests,” Scourge replied, admonishing her to keep her misplaced anger to herself. "Besides, like us, they too serve our mistress, Princess Luna.”

Your mistress perhaps… traitor, she huffed, remembering the smug look the alicorn had given her when she’d unsuccessfully tried scrying the shadows for her beloved master earlier. But I’d sooner leap into the Pit and serve Tiroc, rather than ever serve that fool whore of a pony!

Rumbling in displeasure at her lack of respect for their new mistress, Scourge turned and faced his surly charge. Standing before her, he raised his head and stood at his full height. Towering over her with his much larger frame, he stood before the first creation and terror of the Diamond Vale. Placing a heavy, arcanum clad paw on her shoulder to steady her trembling form, he readied himself to dress her down for her rude and unjustified words against Princess Luna.

“Nightmare,” he quietly rumbled, allowing his deep voice to take a deeper timbre in warning. “The princess is the Slave King’s wife and your mistress. You would do well to remember that the next time you think to insult her in my presence.”

Why should I? she demanded, narrowing her eyes in anger at the traitor’s stupidity in thinking he could ever intimidate the one who held the horrors of the ruined city at bay with naught but her passing shadow.

“She is our mistress,” Scourge countered, looking into her crimson eyes that burned hot with fury. The same rage that their master had once known, and had nearly allowed to consume himself in his quest to slay the last Gembiter. “And that, Nightmare, should be all the reason you require.”

Humph, she snorted, refusing to acknowledge his words as she tilted her head away from his ghostly blue eyes. She felt compelled to offer a barb or two, when she felt her hackles raise. Second…

No sooner had she hissed the name, did the insufferable doomhound round a corner and slowly approach the two. With a slight swagger to his step, he gave them a dismissive sidelong sneer as he passed them by. Furious at being so disrespected by someone who she considered beneath her, Nightmare curled back her lips, revealing her sharp teeth, as she released a low snarl.

“Well it appears that somehound has awoken on the wrong side of the Slave King’s bed, or was it the palace,” Second remarked to himself, placing his paw beneath his muzzle in contemplation.

Watch your tongue, treacherous wretch! Nightmare hissed, as her hair stood up on end.

“Treason, really?” Second scoffed, offering Scourge a quick glance before returning his gaze to her. “The only traitor I see here, is the one you’re leaning against, outcast.”

“Second, I think you have better things to do with your time then annoy Lady Nightmare with your witless banter,” Scourge said, placing himself between the two. “Go about your business and we’ll forget your discourtesy.”

Hearing Scourge’s rebuke, Second offered his fellow doomhound a malicious smile. “So, traitor, I see that the little bird no longer flutters after you,” he said, offering them a quick look at his teeth as he slowly circled them. “I wonder how well she’ll fare out there alone in the wilds, especially when she’s away from the watchful eye of her beloved master.”

“If you dare harm a single feather on her head,” Scourge growled, slamming his arcanum clad paw hard into the ground with a heavy thunk. “So help me, the Slave King’s wrath will be the least of your concerns.”

“And you’ll do what exactly?” Second countered, looking over his shoulder at the hall behind them.

“I’ll kill you,” Scourge said, his voice nearly a whisper, promising vengeance and retribution should the doomhound dare to act on his veiled threat against his beloved disciple, Aria the Red.

“Oh really, traitor, looking to add attempted murder to your list of crimes against the Slave King?” Second taunted, with a low chuckle. “It’s not even been a week yet, and already you’re plotting murder against your fellows.”

“Second, I’ll slay you, it’s as simple as that,” Scourge said, stepping aggressively towards his fellow doomhound. “And if the Slave King wishes to settle accounts with me over the matter, then so be it.”

“Specter, your threats are as hollow as that rusting armor you haunt,” he answered, narrowing his eyes in contempt.

“I might be dead, Second, but I assure you, you’ll find me no less deadly an opponent,” Scourge said matter-of-factly, as his ghostly eyes burned with blue balefire.

“Then I guess we’ll see, Scourge the specter, haunter of closets, and helpmeet of cripples,” Second mocked, as he goaded either of them to make a move against him.

“Yes, Second, we will,” Scourge agreed, fully annoyed with his subordinate’s veiled threats and blatant disrespect.

Releasing a deep howl, he called for his fellow doomhounds to assemble at his side. When nohound answered his call, Scourge released a second more powerful howl that reverberated urgency and echoed the authority of his command. Minutes passed, and when he didn’t even hear a whisper in reply he lowered his head. Looking up, he saw Second laughing to himself at their fellow doomhound’s lacking response.

“I wonder, Scourge, why nohound answers your summons?” Second asked, releasing a raucous, mocking laugh.

“They will come,” Scourge answered, fully confident that even if Second didn’t respect him the others still did. “For I am still first.”

“You might be first for now,” Second said, placing his paws contemplatively in front of him. “But it’s my will, not yours they follow.”

Before giving Scourge a chance to respond, Second released a low growl. Within moments seven other doomhounds exited the shadows and surrounded them to the surprise of the on looking ponies and diamond dogs who were watching their exchange. Each was covered in fur as black as pitch, and possessed a pair of glowing red eyes like hot coals. Inside their maws they had teeth as sharp as blades, and on their paws claws like daggers. Covered head to toe in arcanum armor, each was as fearsome as the next and as deadly as the last.

“I see you’ve finally made your move, Second,” Scourge said, unhappy the others had ignored his call and instead chosen to answer Second’s instead.

“Scourge, can you really blame them?” Second taunted him, looking into his spectral eyes. “You might’ve been acquitted, but as far as everyhound is concerned, you’re still a traitor. So you’d best watch your back, for it seems your friends are few in number.”

Feeling his words pierce his heart, Scourge lowered his head in sorrow. “Come, Lady Nightmare, we’ve spent enough time here,” he said, turning away from those who’d abandoned him in favor of another.

“Yes, we should leave before the rank stench of their failure clings to us as well,” Second agreed, delighted how deeply his words had wounded his hated rival.

Nightmare, who until now had been content to allow the two doomhounds bicker against each other, narrowed her eyes in anger at the insult. It was one thing to insult another, but quite another to insult herself. Leveling a scorn filled gaze at each of the doomhounds as they passed them by, she reserved all her ire for the one who had angered her so. Drawing in all her strength, she raked her claws against the doomhound’s smug muzzle as strongly as she could muster.

As claw met flesh, Second released a shriek of agony as blood gushed forth from the four deep gashes she had left in his muzzle as a parting gift. Placing his paw against his bleeding snout in a futile effort to stop the bleeding, he leveled a murderous glare at her as blood oozed from beneath his paw.

“Nightmare, I’ll kill you for that!” he shouted in fury, trying his best to ignore the throbbing pain in muzzle.

“As long as she’s my responsibility, Second, neither you nor they will lay a paw on her,” Scourge said, placing himself between them. “But if you desire to avenge your wounded ego, feel free to press the issue. I’ll be happy to oblige you.”

Furious as he was, he could see by how Nightmare’s legs trembled that she was still weak. If they attacked her now, there was a good chance they’d manage to kill her. Of course Scourge was a problem, but given their numbers, albeit a manageable one. Lastly, there was still the problematic issue of witnesses, and given how many gawking ponies and diamond dogs there were watching their little exchange, choosing to fight here and now was inopportune.

“Scourge, I think I shall depart for now,” he said, between clenched teeth. Giving Nightmare a dark look, he narrowed his eyes menacingly. “My lady, I pray you stay well until the next time we meet.”

Without another word, Second turned heel and stormed off down the hall, knocking aside ponies and diamond dogs alike in his haste to leave. Without another word, six of the seven other doomhounds evaporated into the shadows like dew before the rising sun. Of their number, only Ninth stayed behind. Pausing to offer Scourge an apologetic look, he said nothing as he turned away.

“Ninth, it’s alright,” Scourge offered to his subordinate. “You can go, I understand.”

The doomhound said nothing, but followed the others into the shadows.

Sniffing the air once to ensure that he had truly left them, Scourge turned to her. “Lady Nightmare, are you well enough to proceed?” he asked, concerned that she’d overexerted herself in striking Second with her claws.

Shaking slightly, she rested against him as she tried her best to keep her balance. What am I, Scourge, some weak whelp, in need of her mother’s care? she retorted, offended that he thought her too weak to continue.

Ignoring her outburst, he waited for her to signal when she was ready to continue making her rounds through the palace. Feeling her move forward, he matched her pace and gait as he resumed escorting her towards their first stop, the throne room.

Looking down at her blood covered claws, and the bloody paw prints she was leaving behind, he thought he should say something. “Nightmare, would you care to wash up before we reach the Slave King’s throne?” he asked, wondering what the pony maids assigned to cleaning up the gory mess they'd left behind might think.

She shot him a withering look. No, he needs to be reminded that there’s been far too little blood spilt lately, she churlishly said, extending her claws, causing the stone beneath them to sharply squeal. A reminder of bloodshed might help get his own running hot.

“But they just cleaned this part of the palace, and blood stains on carpet are difficult to remove,” he pointed out, gesturing towards the ponies fleeing before them.

Who cares if they have to work a bit harder in their cleaning, she dismissively said, rolling her eyes at the thought of inconveniencing herself in the slightest for another's benefit. No one asked them to, and if they’re overly concerned about the cleanliness of the floors, then I say that they’ve chosen the wrong profession.

“Well, I care, and besides the Slave King will be displeased if he discovers that you’ve gone brawling in your state,” Scourge sternly reminded her. “So let’s clean you up.”

Fine, she sulked, too tired to put up more of a fight.

Offering her his shoulder, he led her through a side passage and out into the recently renovated palace grounds. All around them the scent of running water and nature filled the air. Rare blooming flowers and ornamental trees were carefully arranged to allow visitors to soak in and enjoy their aesthetic beauty, while the sounds of the garden’s fountains, pools, and streams provided a calming atmosphere.

Dipping her bloodied paw into a nearby reflecting pool, nightmare watched as the blood of her enemy was diluted and washed away by the moving water. Looking at her reflection, she saw the weakness inflicted on her by her condition and scowled. Where there should’ve been a dark terror at the height of her power reflected back at her, all she saw was a trembling weakling. Seeing her weakness, she turned away in shame. For in her condition, what possible use could the Slave King have for one such as she?

Perhaps his marriage to the pony was for the best. At least then he’d be protected from further harm from his enemies. Seeing her melancholy, Scourge waited patiently by her side, saying nothing.

“Lady Nightmare, do you wish to continue with your rounds?” he asked her, fully prepared to guide her back to her room to rest, if that was her desire.

No, she sullenly said, dearly wishing that her strength would return to her quickly, so she could return once more to her rightful place at his side. Looking at the doomhound, her fierce eyes slightly softened. And, Scourge…

“Yes?” he answered, waiting for her to return to his side, so he could guide her back to his room to rest.

Thank you… she murmured, leaning up against his cold armor to keep her balance.

Hearing her uncharacteristic utterance of gratitude made the old doomhound raise his brown questioningly, but seeing her ire beginning to raise, said nothing. Walking once more together through the old familiar abandoned halls of the palace, only the soft pad of her paws and the gentle ringing of metal meeting stone could be heard as they made their way back to her room.

*****

The ship cut through the choppy water like a hot knife through butter. Breaking through a large wave, the vessel’s figurehead, an intricately carved image of the Lawgiver holding his trident at the ready, sent seawater crashing over the prow and onto the main deck. The crew, consisting of ponies and the odd seapony, were busily adjusting the mainsail's rigging in order to travel a more favorable course along this treacherous stretch of coast they were hugging.

Ordinarily, ships as large as this would sail in deeper waters. But the cargo they were carrying was of a sensitive nature, and considered illegal within the Domain of Water by Lord Triton’s laws. Only by hugging the coastline, could they expect to carry their contraband cargo to its destination without attracting the attention of the watchful eyes of the knights of the Lawgiver.

Adjusting the weather beaten tricorne hat that was perched perilously on his head with his chipped hooves, the paunchy and slightly overweight unicorn fought against the wind to keep his favorite hat from getting blown away into the sea. Using his magic, the pony pressed the hat deeper into his greasy and unkempt pale orange mane, as he made his rounds on the main deck.

Entering the bridge, the pony shut the door behind him, and approached the table in the middle of the room. Secured beneath some heavy stones was a detailed map showing all the hidden dangers lying in wait along the Domain of Earth’s vast coastline. Picking up a compass with his magic, he began charting the course for next leg of their journey. His faded yellow coat bore silent testament to his many years at sea, while his numerous scars and flinty orange eyes showed that he was no stranger to violence.

Tapping his hoof absentmindedly as he carefully studied the map, he contemplated between adjusting their course between two different routes around the reef that would shortly hinder their journey. Northwest towards a largely abandoned Lawgiver post on a small islet, was a route that would provide ample clearance and safe passage from the dangerous reef. Or they could take the much riskier passage north along the coast, which required them waiting for the high tide before they could safely proceed.

The problem was that the high tide was nearly six hours away, but given the contents of their cargo, should they be discovered, losing the ship to the reef would be the least of their problems. Normally the knights of the Lawgiver never patrolled this far south during this time of year, but given the recent sacking of Bone’s Landing, he’d seen their patrols swimming along the waves in the distance further south of their current position.

Given that their lives might be on the line if he made the wrong decision, he felt it best to consult with his first mate and bosun before committing them to their new course. Poking his head out the door, he drew in a sharp breath. “Mr. Barbed Hook, Mr. Gorehorn! Your captain requires your presence on the bridge,” he bellowed, before returning to the map and the two routes waiting for him to choose between.

Minutes later, a light purple seapony mare and hulking green minotaur stepped through the door. The seapony looked at her captain questioningly with her sole blue eye, as she adjusted the black eyepatch covering her left eye. For his part, the minotaur crouched down as he approached the map his captain was studying. Resting his left hand on the hilt of the cutlass he was wearing on his waist, he waited in silence for the unicorn to speak.

“Captain Tulip,” the seapony said, as she floated towards him and leaned down over the table to examine the sea chart he was busily studying. “I take that this is important? We’re almost upon the Shark Fin Reef, and the stallions need me on the deck.”

Hearing her address him by his given pony name, he looked at the image depicting a thorn bush tattooed over his cutiemark before giving her a sour look. “Yes it is, Mr. Barbed Hook,” the captain dourly replied, sliding the chart towards his first officer. “What’s your opinion of these two courses?”

The seapony spent a few minutes studying the chart, before pushing it back to the captain with her fin. “I’d say that Stormbreach Rock is the safer choice,” she said, pointing towards the tiny island on the map. Even if somepony is stationed there, it’s only a small outpost, and we can easily dispatch anypony that tries to get in our way.”

“Captain Thorn Thistle, I respectfully disagree,” the minotaur said, rubbing his thumb thoughtfully along the stubble on his chin. “The cargo hold is full, we could never give the knights the slip if they discovered what we’re hauling.”

“Bosun Gorehorn, I didn’t take you for a coward, too afraid to face the knights in battle,” Barbed Hook said, thoughtfully looking at the large cutlass he was threatening to draw from its scabbard.

“All it takes is one getting away,” he snarled at her, grinding his hoof hard into the deck. “And you can kiss all of our profits goodbye, Barbed Hook.”

“Well the alternative is scarcely any better,” she retorted, flicking back the purple locks of her mane with her fin. “We have a timetable to keep, and if we miss our rendezvous with the Blackheart, we’ll have no way to unload our slaves and get paid.”

“First Officer Barbed Hook, what did I say about speaking aloud about the sensitive nature of our cargo?” the captain demanded, annoyed that she’d broken protocol.

“Captain Tulip, what does it matter,” she protested, shaking her mane in disagreement. “Our stallions have seen our cargo and everypony aboard knows this is a slave ship, thinking otherwise would be naive.

“That’s Captain Thorn Thistle, Mr. Barbed Hook,” he said, snorting sharply through his nostrils. “You’re a seapony, you should know better than anypony else that the sea has ears.”

“We’re deep in the Slave King’s territory, I find it unlikely that the order would send anypony, let alone a patrol this far south, especially given what happened at Bones Landing,” she said, pointing towards the captured port displayed much further south of their position on the map. “I say we risk skirting the outpost, rather than losing six hours waiting for the tide to rise.”

“If we get spotted, we’re done for,” Gorehorn reminded them, impatiently tapping his hoof. “As heavily laden as we are, we’d be sitting ducks if some nosy knights decide that they want to inspect our ship's cargo. But if our first officer is correct, we can scarcely spare six hours waiting for the tide to rise, and meet up with the Blackheart at the agreed upon time.”

“Captain, can’t you… I don’t know, use your magic or something, and send them a message to inform them that we’ll be late?” Barbed Hook hopefully asked as she rhythmically tapped her fin against the table. “That way we could spare the six hours and avoid being discovered by any patrols.”

“No,” the captain replied, shaking his head slowly. “I’m not trained in light magic, and besides, I don’t have an anchor to send them anything anyway.”

“So that’s it then?” she asked, clearly annoyed at the tight spot they were in. “We either risk capture and arrive at the rendezvous on time, or wait six hours, brave the dangers of the reef, and risk missing the Blackheart?”

The bosun heard her concerns and let out a lengthy hmm as he tapped his finger against the hilt of his weapon. Seeing Gorehorn lost in thought, Captain Thorn Thistle wondered what the minotaur was thinking about.

“If you have something to say, Mr. Gorehorn, spit it out,” he said, hoping that somepony had a solution to their problem.

“Hmm, Captain Thorn Thistle, I’m not sure,” he replied, running his fingers over the map. Tracing an invisible line over the Domain of Earth’s coastline, he stopped when he saw a small unmarked cove on the map.

“What is it, Mr. Gorehorn? A solution to our problem?” the captain inquired, hoping his bosun knew something he didn’t.

“Possibly, Captain Thorn Thistle,” he replied, thoughtfully scratched his chin as he studied the map.

“So what is it then?” the captain asked, impatient to chart the fastest course to the point on the map his bosun was pointing towards.

“Captain, I have an idea that might possibly work, but it’s not without its own risks,” he mused, looking closely at the map.

“And what risks might those be?” Barbed Hook said, placing her fins contemplatively in front of her.

“Well for one thing, if things go wrong, fighting knights of the Lawgiver, or missing the Blackheart will be the least of our worries,” he answered, examining the map closely.

Spying that his finger was tracing a new line towards a nearby branch of the Lonely Road, made her realize what he had in mind. “So you're thinking that we should betray our partners on the Blackheart, by attempting to offload and sell the slaves ourselves, eh, Gorehorn?” she asked, pleased at having figured out his plan for herself. “You clever old sea dog, I never would’ve finned you as being so ambitious.”

“Well the Lonely Road does run close to the cove you’re pointing to,” Captain Thorn Thistle murmured to himself, as he considered the logistics of transporting their cargo across the wastes of the Domain of Earth to the nearest market to sell for a tidy sum. “But what about the paperwork for our cargo? Without convincing forgeries, our cargo is completely worthless to us.”

“Also Captain Greenbeard of the Blackheart, will be furious when they discover we’ve cut them out of our little arrangement,” the bosun pointed out, following the road north to the port city of Shadehoof. “We’ll need forged bills of sale for all the slaves, and I believe that the Blackheart had a scrivener amongst their crew.”

“Yeah, they do,” the captain agreed. “We transport the cargo and they forge the paperwork so they can offload them in the Shadehoof flesh market, for a larger share of the profits of course.”

“Well then gentleponies, what’s the problem?” Barbed Hook asked, greedily calculating and counting up her increased share of the profits for the sale of the slaves chained up in the ship’s hold. “We weigh anchor in the cove, and send a griffin or pegasi to Shadehoof to fetch us a scrivener to forge us the proper paperwork, then march the cargo to the Ruby Ridge, Sapphire Shores, or even the Neo Vale slave markets, and reap all the profits for ourselves.”

“But we’ve no wagons to transport them, and that’s nothing to say of the bribes we’ll have to pay to move this many slaves along the Lonely Road,” Gorehorn said, pointing out the difficulties they would face if they tried unloading their merchandise themselves.

“All manageable problems, bosun,” the seapony slaver said, imagining the large pile of bits that would shortly be hers.

“And what if the Slave King discovers what we’re doing before we have the paperwork to protect ourselves?” the minotaur pointed out, hoping to convince his captain to carefully consider his proposal before charging head down and horns out at full speed at this impromptu and reckless scheme.

“Captain, surely his eyes can’t be everywhere,” Barbed Hook said, hoping to convince the captain that the infinitesimal small risk of being discovered were worth the grand rewards this plan offered if it succeeded. “We’ll send out our stallion to Shadehoof once we’re in sight of the cove, if they make good time we'll have a scrivener at our camp in less than a day's time.”

Gorehorn gave her a sour look and shook his head, sorry that he ever said anything. “Captain Thorn Thistle, I already said my piece. What are your orders?” he asked, resigned to follow whatever the unicorn decided upon.

“Mr. Gorehorn, Mr. Barbed Hook, I’ve come to a decision,” he said, picking up the sextant with his magic. Placing it on the map he began charting a new course. “We’ll make for the cove.”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” Barbed Hook enthusiastically said, counting her future earnings in her mind as she exited the bridge.

“I just hope this doesn’t bite us on our tails, captain,” Gorehorn said, looking at the length of road that ran from the small cove to Shadehoof with concern.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Gorehorn,” Captain Thorn Thistle said, halfheartedly reassuring his bosun. “There’s nothing for leagues in all directions, I’m sure the pony we pick for this job will get us a scrivener before anypony discovers what we’re doing.”

Looking at the faded brand adorning his shoulders, signifying his status as a freed slave, he gave his captain a final look before exiting the bridge as well. “I certainly hope so, captain. I certainly hope so.”

*****

Flittering beside the hot oven, she gently hummed to herself as she attended to her coking. A large pot, resting on hot coals, contained her latest culinary creation, a savory stew. The delightful scent emanating from her cooking filled the large kitchen, infusing everything with the promise of a wonderful meal. Satisfied that her stew was in no danger of burning, she turned her attention to the dough she’d left to rise on a nearby counter.

Gliding towards the rising dough, she lifted the cloth covering it and gingerly prodded the soft doughy ball with her tiny hoof. Satisfied that it was ready, she placed a generous portion of flour on the counter with her magic. Looking at the lump nearly larger then herself, she cracked her neck and went to work. Leaping onto the leavened mass, she pressed all her weight onto her hooves, and began kneading the dough as best she could.

Although she was much smaller than most other bakers, she certainly enjoyed pounding the dough hard with her hooves whenever she made bread. Sure, she sometimes nearly got stuck in the dough, but with a few hard beats of her gossamer wings and a little assistance from her potent magic, she always managed to shortly free herself from the sticky clutches of the dough.

Pouncing up and down, the tiny mare released a small giggle as she went to work on the bouncy lump of dough. Remembering who she was apprenticed to and what she aspired to be, she stifled her laughter and resolved to finish her work in silence as she beat the dough in earnest. Pound, pompf, pound, pompf, went the dough, as she diligently worked it with a renewed vigor.

Looking behind her, she saw the white pegasus layabout that she’d found alone and injured in the Hinterlands of Autumn. Silently shaking her head disapprovingly, she returned to her work. Although given the state of his still healing wounds, she couldn’t fault him for wanting to take it easy. But there was still work to do, and if she didn’t do it, nopony would. She heard him softly snoring, and saw to her amusement as he nearly inhaled his own golden, curly mane with each deep breath he took.

She wondered how long had it been since he’d last had a hot meal or warm bed, well before meeting her that was. Since judging by how much and heartily he’d been eating and how deeply he’d been sleeping, she thought it must have been quite some time since he’d last had the opportunity. He’d been in such a sorry state when they’d first met, she was certain he’d gone at least three rounds with an angry griffin.

In truth, it had been two angry griffins. Of course he’d not defeated them alone singlehoofedly, oh no. Thanks in no small part to her own magic, she managed to drive off the great brute that sought him harm. Standing nearly three hoofs higher than her friend, the beastly griffin was moments away from dispatching the poor pegasus before she’d managed to stop him.

Normally she’d never stoop to doing something as unrefined and ghastly as fighting, but the degenerate had the gall to insult her, and so needed to be taught some manners. Giving the thug a small taste of her magic had made him much more amicable to her suggestion to leaving them in peace. Crinkling her brow at the memory of his rude dismissal of her, she snorted in agitation, and pounded the dough extra hard with her tiny hoof.

As long as she could remember, it had always been the same. Bullies thinking they could take whatever they wanted, simply because they were bigger then you. Being flutterponies, her diminutive race had it worse than nearly everypony else. Among the denizens of the Everfree Forest there was a clear pecking order to things, and flutterponies were usually found at the bottom of that list.

Although her people possessed ample and potent magic themselves, they were all too timid to stand up for themselves. Terrible timberwolves running roughshod over their mushroom patches, menacing manticores tearing through their village as if they owned the place, and horrible hydras trying to devour them left and right whenever they had the chance. It was always the same, replant, relocate, rebuild, and finally mourn and bury the dead if they ever managed to find them.

Even though the forest was their ancestral homeland, it was a cruel uncaring place, especially to the flutterpony race. She supposed that the endless cycle of senseless death and destruction her people were continually forced to endure, was the main impetus of her desire to become a sage. If even a few of their number had a sage’s power, then perhaps future tragedies could be avoided.

Truly her being accepted as Sage Zhang’s apprentice nearly a decade ago had been fortuitous harmony indeed. Having heard of the kirin race’s vast wisdom on her travels, she’d decided that in order to help her people she would become a sage herself. Before being accepted as his disciple, she'd visited many other ziggurats, in the hopes of being permitted to join their order. However in the end, all but her master had turned her away from their doorsteps.

Even though her master had been reticent to accept her as his apprentice at first, she was certain that without her to look after him, that he’d be completely lost. After all, the sage hadn’t even had to brew his own tea in almost a decade, let alone any of the other necessary chores their ziggurat’s maintenance required. Looking back towards the oven, she abandoned her half kneaded dough, and flittered back to the pot of stew. Grabbing a long wooden spoon with her hooves, she gave the bubbling concoction a few stirs for good measure, before returning to her kneading.

Examining her hooftiwork, she decided the bread needed something more. After a few moments, she flew to the small herb garden she grew to on the kitchen terrace. Looking at her choices, she lightly tapped her hooves together, before swooping onto the rosemary to harvest a few hoofuls of leaves. With a sharp sounding shwick, she sliced a few sprigs of the herb free with her magic and carried it back into the kitchen. Stripping away the leaves from the stem, she cut them into fine pieces with a few more schwicks in rapid succession, before liberally sprinkling the sweet smelling herb on the dough.

Pressing hard into the soft, springy surface, she smiled as she inhaled the sweet aroma of the leavened dough. Licking her lips at the thought of eating a thick slice of freshly baked rosemary bread, she was certain it would be a hit with everypony. After all, one didn’t need to be a sage or possess true sight to know this meal would be a delicious one. As she worked the dough, her thoughts wandered to the vision she’d had during the last Grand Celestial Conjunction.

Her master had instructed her to use her true sight, otherwise known as sight beyond sight to help her scry the heavens for portents and omens. It was then, that she’d seen the face of true terror. A pair of burning eyes had sought the Slave King’s destruction, and once they were finished with him, planned to cover all of Equestria in fire, blood, and steel. The vision had frightened her greatly, and even now made her heart race.

Revealing what she’d seen to her master had caused the aged kirin sage to command her to drop the matter. But try as she might, the destruction the burning eyes promised to unleash on everypony, left her feeling ill at ease. Doing nothing about the vision she’d seen felt wrong to her. She’d left her timid people behind because none of them had the will to act to save themselves, and now she was being instructed to do the same here.

It felt so frustrating, not being allowed to take action. But she respected her master too much to disobey him. She only hoped that the Slave King would overcome his unseen enemy before they had a chance to bring ruin to the rest of Equestria. Pressing her hooves deep into the dough, she noticed it felt ready for baking, and began preparing the dough for the oven. Shaping it into an oblong loaf, she spread a light covering of oil over it before slicing three narrow cuts along the top.

Carrying the dough to the waiting oven, she gently laid it down on the hot stones with her magic. Wiping her sweating brow with her hoof, she gently sneezed as she breathed in some stray flour. Examining her hooftiwork, she nodded in satisfaction as she set about cleaning herself up. Brushing off the bits of dough that were still stuck to her bright yellow coat, and shaking the flour free from her purple mane, she flew to a plush pillow she liked using for a seat and waited for their lunch to finish cooking.

“Mmm, that smells wonderful, Glitterwing,” the pegasus groggily said, not having quite woken up all the way yet.

“Well of course it does, Bucky, I made it after all,” she haughtily replied, slightly miffed he’d left all the work of preparing their meal to her, and was only stirring now that her chores were finished and their lunch was nearly ready.

For his part, Bucky let out a wide yawn as he stretched out his legs and wings. Blinking a few times, he twisted his head back and forth to smooth out all the kinks in his joints. Sniffing the air a few times, he flew into the kitchen and inhaled the delicious aroma from the bubbling stew. Licking his lips once, he smacked them together in anticipation, as he reached for the wooden spoon next to the pot.

With a sharp crack, the wooden spoon lifted up and smacked away his hoof disapprovingly, before returning to its place beside the pot of stew.

“Yeouch!” he yelped as he gingerly rubbed his smarting hoof. “Glitterwing, what the hay was that for?”

“It’s not ready yet,” she cheekily replied, watching him like a hawk, lest he make a second attempt at some sneaky snacking.

“But I’m hungry,” he whined, looking up at her with pleading eyes.

“Bucky, by sleeping in you missed breakfast,” she scolded him, shaking her antenna at him. “If you’re hungry now, you’ve only yourself to blame.”

“Come on, Glitterwing, I’m starving here,” he begged, placing his hooves together in supplication.

“Well if you’re so hungry then, feel free to help yourself,” she replied, gesturing with her hoof towards the door and the grassy meadow outside. “There’s plenty of tall grass and wildflowers to be had this time of year in the Hinterlands of Autumn.”

“Grass? Bleh,” Bucky said, sticking out his tongue in disgust at the thought of eating wild plants like a wandering vagrant.

“Well, if the grass outside doesn’t seem appetizing, perhaps we could arrange a trade…” she teased, holding aloft an apple and half a loaf of bread right above his head, just out of reach with her magic. “I've got some dirty dishes that need to be taken care of.”

“Okay fine,” he eagerly agreed, stretching out his hoof expectantly for his breakfast.

Cutting the apple and loaf in two, she dropped the halves in his hooves, and returned the rest to lay beside her.

“Aww… cum on, tat’s bary a mowful,” he complained, spewing crumbs all around him as he shoved them in his muzzle as quickly as he could.

“No, part now, and the rest when you finish the job,” she said, frowning at his poor table manners. “And for the love of Celestia, Bucky, please cover your mouth when you eat!”

Releasing a small burp, his cheeks flushed as he gave her a sheepish grin. “Oh sorry about that, Glitterwing,” he chuckled, as got to work washing the dishes.

“Just don’t go making a habit of it,” she said from her cushion as she watched him fill up an empty pot with water to boil. “So tell me, Bucky, what else can you tell me about the South?”

“Hmm, the South,” he murmured as he waited for the water to heat up. “Anything in particular you wanted to know?”

“Anything and everything,” she replied, excitedly beating her wings. “The Neo Vale, The Order of the Shadow, the culture, but anything about the Slave King especially.”

“The Slave King, eh?” he grunted, rinsing off some dishes. “Only ever met him once.”

“Oh, what was he like?” she asked, sitting in rapt attention.

“Kinda hard to say really,” Bucky answered, thoughtfully placing his hoof at his chin. “I mean the stories make him out to be a fearsome giant.”

“But isn’t he?” she said, wondering how accurate the tales she’d heard told of the Lord of Earth were.

“Well, when I met with him, I got the distinct impression that he was more exhausted than anything else,” he said, placing the dishes in neat stacks as prepared to wash them.

“Exhausted?” she reiterated, perplexed how any member of the Pantheon could ever be tired.

“Yeah, I’d say exhausted would be a good description,” Bucky said, removing the steaming water from the fire.

“What made you think that?” she asked, curious why he thought so.

“Well…” he drawled, pouring the hot water into the basin. “I had been haggling with him over some spoils of war, and my eyes were itching a bit.”

“Your eyes itched?” she asked, confused why that would make him think the Slave King or anypony else for that matter might be tired.

“Yeah my eyes always itch a bit whenever I or somepony around me is feeling exhausted,” he explained, rubbing his own with a free hoof.

“Oh, you mean your second sight right?” she asked, tilting her ears towards him.

“No, my second sense,” he corrected her, shaking his head slightly in annoyance.

“Yes, you mentioned that earlier,” she said, remembering how he used it to avoid being slain by the griffins when she’d first met him. Picking up a quill, she licked the tip before she began writing on a nearby piece of parchment. “So itchy eyes means somepony is exhausted…”

“Yes,” he agreed, as he began washing a bowl. “And can you blame him? After all, he practically runs the entire Domain of Earth all by himself. He doesn’t even have a council like most of the other domains have.”

“Bucky, you mentioned you had haggled with him over the spoils of war, please elaborate,” she said, writing everything down on the parchment in a beautiful flowing script.

“Oh yeah, me and my friend Dawson had captured a doe at Bones Landing, and I sold her to the Slave King for a mint,” he said, looking towards his saddlebag full of bits.

“Why do you think the Slave King was exhausted?” she asked, dipping her quill in the inkwell.

“Probably due to overwork and sleepless nights more than anything else,” he muttered through his teeth as he struggled with a scrubbing brush. “Celestia knows he has more enemies then anypony else I could think of, on or off of the Pantheon.”

Remembering her vision, and the terrible portents it held, she wondered if her house guest might be able to shed further light on what she’d seen with her second sight. Meditating on her vision, she silently recalled what she’d committed to memory.

In the South, the heartless one sits upon his throne, tending to his own affairs, while the North, Center, and East relentlessly hunt him, hoping to encircle, entrap, and imprison him. While evading those who seek to make him their prey, the East silently retreats having spirited away his most precious treasure. In a fury, the heartless one’s left hand and finger crushes the crystal of the north, while being buffeted every which way by Winter’s rage. Taking advantage of the heartless one’s distraction, a pair of burning eyes seeks to release enough violence upon Equestria, to make the rivers flow red with the blood of the innocent.

Pondering over what she’d seen that night with her true sight, she decided to broach the subject with him. “So tell me, Bucky, what does the Slave King value above all else?” she asked, hoping that his knowledge of the Domain of Earth might provide her with some fresh insight into the vision’s true meaning.

“What?” he asked, nearly dropping the dish he’d been washing in surprise.

“I’m curious,” she answered, giving him a thoughtful look. “There’s so little known or written about the Domain of Earth, or the Slave King for that matter. Having had some dealings with him, your experience might provide a fresh perspective nopony else has ever considered before.”

Tapping his hoof lightly against the floor, the pegasus gave her inquiry a brief moment of thought. “He seemed more amused than anything else,” he said, placing the bowl he’d been washing alongside the rest to dry.

“Amused by what?” she asked, wondering what the dark lord of the South could possibly find amusing.

“Well Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, and Lord Triton, were each annoyed at me for refusing to release the doe for nothing,” he said, recalling what had happened on the day of his release from bondage.

“You had dealings with each of them?” Glitterwing asked, flabbergasted at the revelation and nearly dropping her quill in surprise.

“Oh, and Lady Zephyr was there as well,” he continued, as he washed a pot. “But she didn’t have much to say, to me at least.”

“You were present at a meeting that occurred between half the Pantheon, and haven’t thought about the need to speak a word of it to me until just now?” she tersely asked, her high pitched voice rising in annoyance. “You were supposed to tell me anything special you knew about the South!”

“The need to say anything about it didn’t come up until just now,” Bucky nonchalantly replied, as he moved to empty out the dish water.

“So tell me, Bucky, what else have you been keeping from me?” she demanded, pointing her quill accusingly at him.

“You know my friend Dawson,” he said, sitting down beside her.

“Yeah you’ve mentioned earlier that he was serving alongside you as a member of the Shadow Hooves,” she agreed, returning to writing down what he was saying on the parchment. “You mentioned that he was a griffin-half.”

“Yes, Dawson is Lady Zephyr’s son,” he explained, fluttering his wings a little as he held out his hoof expectantly. “I believe the rest of my payment is in order before I say anymore, Glitterwing.”

Without a word, the flutterpony levitated the remainder of the apple and bread into his outstretched hoof. “So tell me what the Slave King found so amusing?” she asked, looking up from her parchment to look into his blue eyes.

“They each felt I was wrong for selling my prisoner into slavery, having just been released from slavery myself,” he explained, taking a hearty bite from the apple. “But when I pointed out to them, that at any time they could free the Slave King’s other slaves, they only offered me halfhearted excuses for their inaction to right what they called an injustice. He offered me praise and a smile at my words, and twice my asking price for the doe.”

Looking at what she had written down, she pondered over what he had said. She was no closer to discovering what the Slave King’s most valuable treasure was yet, but thought that what had happened at the meeting between deities might provide additional clues.

“So tell me more about Dawson,” she said, wondering why he would go half way across the world to risk death by serving in the Slave King’s army. “Do you know his reasons for enlisting in the Slave King’s army?”

“He said that he wanted to win his father’s approval,” he said, thinking of his friend. “Dawson said he was the only griffin-half in existence.”

She found Bucky’s words intriguing. His mother was the Maelstrom, but who could his father possibly be? Unlike Lady Suzaku, Lady Zephyr wasn’t known for her dalliances. The only lover that the Lady of Air had ever taken that she was a aware of, was Lord Darkpaw, and he had long since passed. She must have found somepony new, the Slave King perhaps? But if that was true, why refuse to acknowledge his son? Surely, a new tribe linking the North and South would be beneficial to his domain’s influence.

“Did he ever mention who his father was?” Glitterwing asked, trying to puzzle out how all this fit together within the vision she had received.

“No,” Bucky replied, shaking his head. “Just some unknown wayfarer I guess.”

“So is he still serving in the Slave King’s army?” she asked, placing her parchment to the side.

“No, I don’t think so,” Bucky answered. “The reason why Lady Zephyr was there at all, was to collect her son. Apparently, he had sneaked out in search of finding fame and fortune. He’s probably back at his home in the Golden Eyrie by now.”

When she heard that, her antenna perked up. Although her master had forbade her from seeking after the Slave King, he’d said nothing about the Golden Eyrie. The Hinterlands of Autumn being a daughter domain to the Domain of Air, had regular commerce and intercourse with each other. In fact, one of the busiest highways in Autumn was the one that lead directly from Lord Raiden’s Ziggurat of Knowledge to the Golden Eyrie.

As Sage Zhange’s disciple, she made regular trips to the great tower of learning weekly, sometimes even more. And it just so happened, that she had another trip she needed to make to submit her master’s latest almanac and dissertation on the recent Grand Celestial Conjunction to the faculty of academics and brow of scholars that reviewed all sayings, writings, theses, dissertations, visions, portents, and almanacs that the sages of Autumn regularly submitted to be judged on their merits, before being either rejected or accepted into the great library in the Ziggurat of Knowledge.

Perhaps if they made the journey there together, she might discover more about the sire of Lady’s Zephyr’s griffin-half son, and with Bucky’s help maybe even an introduction to Dawson while she was at it. After all, the golden Eyrie wasn’t too far from the Ziggurat of Knowledge, and didn’t her master say the first responsibility of any sage was the accumulation of knowledge?

Knowing what she had to do, she decided to make her move. “So, Bucky,” she said, giving him a slight smile. “Have you given any thought to where you’re planning to go to next?”

“Well, I had planned on visiting the Domain of Air, and even the Golden Eyrie, but with the cold reception I received in the first tavern I stepped in, I think I might head to the Crystal Dominion, or Marelantis next instead,” he said, brushing a few crumbs from his muzzle.

“I need to make a trip to the Ziggurat of Knowledge,” she sweetly said, batting her eyes at him. “And I could certainly use the help of a big strong stallion like yourself to help me carry some books there.”

“I’ve never been there before,” he admitted, wondering what the famed center of learning in Equestria was like.

“Oh in that case, Bucky, you just have to come and see it,” she said flapping her wings about in excitement. “Everypony should see the Ziggurat of Knowledge at least once in their life.”

“So when do we leave, Glitterwing?” he asked, more concerned for the rumbling in his tummy than their itinerary.

“Maybe tomorrow or the day after,” she said, lightly clopping her hooves together, pleased that she’d gotten him to agree to accompany her to the Ziggurat of Knowledge. “I just need to let my master know when we’ll be leaving.”

“Leaving for where…” Sage Zhange said from behind them.

“The Ziggurat of Knowledge, master,” Glitterwing said with a slight bow. “To deliver your latest dissertation to the sages for review.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure my findings on the Grand Celestial Conjunction will be all the rage in the council,” the aged kirin dryly said. “I’m not sure it’s quite ready yet.”

“But, master, your hypothesis that the Slave King’s five hundredth inauguration will be the beginning of a new epoch of Equestrian politics is quite sound,” she said, pointing a hoof towards a stack of parchment on his desk. “Personally I found you made several compelling points and arguments in favor of your thesis.”

“It’s just that my last dissertation on the effects of Zebrakan imports on the Londwhinium, Marelantis, and Neo Vale economies wasn’t as well received as I hoped,” the sage sighed, as he ran a hoof along his lengthy, unkempt grey beard. “Those seventy year old kids running the review board certainly put my proposed theories through the wringer.”

“Well, master, economics were never your strongest field of study,” she admitted, bringing him a cup of tea.

“I guess I’m just feeling my age, my disciple, after all, I'm no longer a hundred,” he admitted, taking the tea from her with his magic. Pausing to gently blow on it, he took a small sip and sighed. “Ah, thank you, Glitterwing.”

“Master, don’t worry about your thesis,” she said, offering him a reassuring smile. “I’m sure the council will praise your work, you are one of the great astrologers of our age after all.”

Looking to his tiny disciple, he offered her a smile as he returned to his waiting thesis. Picking up a quill with his magic, he began writing. “So, Glitterwing, when did you want to leave?” he asked, as the quill flew over the parchment, leaving beautiful calligraphy behind in its wake.

“Maybe in a day or two,” she replied, flying into the kitchen to check on the baking bread and simmering stew. “Master, it looks like lunch is nearly ready.”

“Oh, great!” Bucky exclaimed, excited to get his fill.

Filling up a bowl with a generous portion of stew, Glitterwing brought it to her waiting master.

Levitating his spoon with his magic, Sage Zhange lifted up a spoonful of stew to his lips and tasted it. Smiling in satisfaction, he nodded appreciatively at her. “Wonderful as always,” he said, praising her cooking skills. “Glitterwing, while you’re off on your little adventure, perhaps you should speak with one of my colleagues, Councilor Xi Baoping.”

“Isn’t she a lawyer or something?” she asked, trying to remember if she’d ever met the kirin before.

“Yes, she is. She's also an academic, a scholar, and historian of some renown,” he agreed, sipping from his tea cup. “She also knows more about the Domain of Air than any other sage currently residing in the Ziggurat of Knowledge. If you want to learn more about Lady Zephyr, she’s the doe to speak with.”

“Oh, master, so you've figured me out then?” she asked, lightly blushing as she tried unsuccessfully to hide her face beneath her purple mane.

“Yes, but it wasn’t too difficult,” he admitted, placing a spoonful of stew in his mouth. “Your insatiable hunger for knowledge drives you to learn all that you can, and I suspect that until you completely understand your vision, a desire for your other studies will suffer.”

“So, master, I have your permission then?” she asked, hoping that he would grant her his blessing.

“Yes, my disciple, you may go,” he said, tilting his head and wizened and twisting horns to her. “I look forward to reading the dissertation you’ll write about your discoveries, once you’ve returned to me.”

“But will you be all right, master?” she asked, concerned for the aged kirin’s well being.

“I should be fine,” he said, holding up a hoof as he dismissed her concerns. “After all, Glitterwing, it’s not as if you’re braving the wilds and heading into the Slave King’s domain all on your lonesome.”

“But, master, who will make you your tea, and ensure you’re eating well every day?” she asked, flittering over his head and tapping her hooves together with worry.

“I’m quite capable of brewing my own tea, thank you very much,” Sage Zhange said, offering her a gentle smile. “I should make it fine roughing things for a few weeks on my own. I may be one hundred and thirty, but I’m not some old doddering buck, constantly in need of a nursemaid.”

“Alright, master,” she agreed, returning to the kitchen to fetch her own meal.

Once she was out of earshot, Sage Zhange pointed his hoof at Bucky. “Please look after my disciple,” he said, glancing towards Glitterwing momentarily before returning his gaze back to him. “Her magic may be strong, but she’s still ignorant of the ways of the world.”

“Don’t worry, sage,” Bucky answered, standing up from his seat. “I’ll help keep her safe.”

“Thank you, friend, for putting an old buck’s mind at ease,” the kirin said, before returning to his meal.

“So, Glitterwing,” Bucky said, poking his head into the kitchen. “What do we do now?”

“First we eat,” she said, carrying a large bowl for her friend, and a much smaller one for herself with her magic. Placing the bowl before him, she returned to the kitchen to fetch some of the rosemary bread she’d just pulled out from the oven. “And then we prepare for our journey.”

Inhaling the delightful aroma of her cooking, Bucky licked his lips appreciatively. “Glitterwing, now that’s a plan I can get behind,” he said, before digging his muzzle into the tasty stew.

Looking at the two impossibly young fawns planning their adventure together, Sage Zhange thought back to his own youth and smiled. “Stay safe, Glitterwing. May Lord Raiden’s wisdom guide you, and the Maelstrom protect you from all harm, my disciple.”

*****

It had been a long and tiring journey to the coast, but she’d finally made it. Although she was a native to these lands, it had been ages since she’d last visited the sea outside of any official capacity. In fact, the last time that she could remember having spent any meaningful time near the Western Sea outside her previous employment, she’d still been a fledgling, barely able to fly unassisted. She’d come here together with her mother and sisters, to a hidden cove few knew about. Closing her eyes, she remembered that day only too well.

Her usually gregarious mother had been quiet for most of their journey together, and hadn’t said much until they had arrived there. Once they had set foot on the beautiful sandy beach, mother was all smiles once more, and had returned to her usual affable self. While mother was busy setting up their camp, she used her wings, and pushed her and her sisters out onto the beach to have fun.

Go on, Aria, love, she’d said, offering her a warm smile. Be a dear, and play with your sisters as I setup our camp.

Yes, mother, she’d replied, taking hold of her sisters’ hands, and walking a short way near the water’s edge.

Aria, love, be mindful of the sea, she’d called out. You can play near the surf but not in it. And make sure Melody behaves herself.

Yes, mother, she’d dutifully replied, for unlike her mischievous younger sister, she was nothing but an obedient child.

Together, she, Melody, and Harmony had a grand old time, making sand castles together and then the defenses to protect their creations from the incoming surf. It had been a joyful and carefree day she remembered. No tears, but only smiles. Well no tears that was, until he came…

So this is why you’ve summoned me here? he’d angrily demanded, furious with her mother for some unknown reason. His eyes held nothing but contempt for mother, as he seemed to ignore her and her sisters.

She could still remember how tall he was, and how he towered over her and her sisters, and even her mother as well. He’d been accompanied by two of his servants, both of them doomhounds. One was blue and translucent, and had a curious and gentle way about him. The other seemed even more annoyed at having been brought here then his master was. He wore a petulant sneer and his fierce scowling eyes felt as if they were boring into her soul. She’d decided then and there that she didn’t like him, not one bit.

However his companion was another story, his shimmering blue eyes held warmth and affection for her and her sisters. She’d met him once before, not too long ago, back when she had gotten lost in his master’s home. He’d gone out of his way to comfort her, and guide her back to wait for her mother, before anyfeather knew she’d disobeyed and gone missing. She decided then that she liked him, and seeing him once more, brought joy to her heart.

Looking to her sisters, she saw their fear at the sight of the two doomhounds, and moved to comfort and reassure them. Don’t worry, mother will protect us, but he’s a nice feather, she’d said, pointing towards the ghostly hound who was still standing beside his master.

Feeling bolstered by her words, the tears threatening to escape their eyes became dry, and they even managed to smile. Looking to mother, she grew worried, he was using a harsh tone towards her, and his eyes burned with an unmistakeable fury. She remembered how her mother had cried and plead at his feet previously, as she groveled before him now. They were both using words she didn’t quite comprehend, but judging by how angry his tone was and how terse mother seemed, they were fighting over something.

Looking to her hand, she counted her fingers. She had five, just like him. Her mother had once told her that her father had five fingers, just like her. But now one of those five fingers were pointing at her and her sisters, accusing them of some unknown crime or sin. It made her feel small and scared, and she simply wanted to curl up into a little ball and cry beneath her wings.

Seeing her distress, her blue friend approached her. Offering her a friendly smile, he gently prodded her with his armor clad muzzle. The touch of his cold metal armor against her feathers felt ticklish, and she released a small giggle.

Smile, little pup, for you are among friends here, he’d told her, assuaging away her fears with his kind and gentle words.

Whether he shared his servant’s opinion she didn’t know, but he made no move to correct him. Moving out of his sight she stood behind the doomhound, and motioned for her sisters to follow her. While Harmony was quick to obey her elder sister’s commands, Melody’s eyes twinkled with mischief as she began creeping towards him. She stood in shock as her younger sister sneaked towards him until she was standing inside his shadow. For his part, he didn’t seem to pay her or her sisters any mind.

Slowly she crept forward until she was standing right beside him. She didn’t reach any higher than his knee, but stood there looking up at him with an amused look plastered on her face. Looking up at him, she tilted her head as she studied his metal arm, beast skin cloak, and iron crown.

Although he barely raised his voice to their mother, she could tell that her eyes longed to weep. Mother approached him with outstretched wings and pleaded with him. She was fairly certain that he would have nothing more but cross words for mother, but then she saw her sister Melody do the unthinkable, she reached out with her hand and lightly tugged on his cloak.

Fearful of what he might do to her sister, she wanted to rush over to her side, but felt herself afraid for her own safety. With fear and trembling, she’d grabbed ahold of the doomhound’s armor and closed her eyes. But instead of frightened cries, all she heard was a playful giggle from her sister’s beak. Peaking up from behind the doomhound, she saw him looking down at Melody with a curious look on his face. Although the metal crown obscured most of it, she could still see his mouth. Always before, the corners of his mouth seemed to hold a permanent frown, but when he looked down at her little sister, she saw his lips slightly relax.

What is your name? he’d asked, his voice losing the hardened edge it had once held for their mother.

Melody offered him a smile, and reached out with her tiny hand to touch his metal one. Looking down at her, he opened his hand and offered his cool metal palm to her. Gently placing her hand in his, she looked up at him with a look of childlike wonder and innocence.

I’m Melody, are you my daddy? she’d asked him, offering him a small curtsey as she did. Staring into his burning green eyes, she quietly waited for his answer.

He said nothing, seemingly unwilling to answer her question. Slowly removing his hand from hers, he turned back to mother. Very well, if this is your desire, he’d told her, his voice containing none of the previous rancor it’d once held.

Mother had seemed relieved when she heard his words, but her eyes held a hint of sadness. Aria, love, she’d heard her call out. Come here, and bring Harmony with you.

Dutifully, she grabbed her baby sister’s hand and approached mother’s side. Yes, mother, she’d said, looking up at him briefly before returning her gaze to the comforting sight of her mother.

Her mother approached them, and pulled her and her sister’s into a loving embrace. Aria, love, she whispered, holding them tightly against her breast. I need you to be a brave girl. Can you do that for me?

Nodding once, she bowed her head. Yes, mother, she’d dutifully replied.

Good, she’d said, reluctantly letting go of each of them. Mother is going to be leaving you for a while. I need you to watch after your sisters, can you do that for me?

When she’d heard that her mother was going to be leaving them, she felt herself trembling as her eyes threatened to tear up. Remembering her promise to be brave, she lightly sniffed as she rubbed away her tears with her hand. Nodding once, she grabbed both of her sisters’ hands tightly.

Yes, mother, she’d hesitantly said, conflicted by her desire to be a good girl, yet wishing she wouldn’t have to be separated from her mother.

Looking up at her mother with uncertainty in her heart, she wondered how long she was to be separated from her. She felt a dark shadow covering her and turned around. He was standing there behind them saying nothing. She looked down at her hands and counted her fingers. Five fingers. She had five on each hand, just like him. Looking up at him, she wondered who was going to take care of her and her sister’s while their mother was gone.

Come, he’d said in a voice that suggested she had no choice but to obey.

Walking towards him she felt scared as she left the familiar safety her mother offered, but felt comforted when the blue doomhound approached, and walked beside them. Looking back, she saw mother standing there with an outstretched wing.

Staring up at him, she looked at him with curiosity. Sir, where are we going? she’d asked him.

Home, was all he said, his raspy voice echoing sadness.

With each step they took, she was being drawn further and further away from the loving warmth mother had always offered her. Slowly, the sandy beach of the cove gave way to hardened earth and stony ground. He motioned for them to stop. Flanked on either side by his doomhound servants, the verdant flames in his eyes flared with power as he stretched forth his metal hand.

She felt the ground beneath her feet moving and shifting. It was as if the earth had become like water, and was threatening to swallow her and her sisters whole. Panicking, she felt her heart race as she fought against the instinct demanding that she try flying away from this terrible place. But she held back. After all, she’d promised mother to watch after her sisters.

Be still, little pup, you’re among friends, she’d heard the doomhound’s comforting voice say.

Bolstered by his words, she pushed back her fears and stood beside him with her sisters. All around her, the world slowly lost all color as the shadows and darkness slowly enveloped them in its cold embrace. Losing all sense of the world, she felt him pulling her and her sisters forward. How long they were like this she didn’t know, but whenever she felt scared, she latched onto the doomhound’s familiar presence and was comforted.

Slowly the color returned to her vision, and was relieved when she felt solid ground beneath her feet once more. But what she saw there once the shadows had fled from her eyes, frightened her. This dreary place was dark and oppressive, and she felt a cold chill run along her back when she contemplated what might be hiding in the shadows lurking all around her.

Sensing her fear, the doomhound stood by her side and gently nuzzled her with his armored muzzle. Fear not, little pup, I will keep you and your sisters safe, he’d said, his words and tone banishing away her fears as he promised her his complete protection.

Follow, he’d said, gesturing to her and the doomhound with his metal hand.

Silently Aria followed after him, holding onto her sisters’ hands tightly, determined to ensure they were with her at all times in this dark place. Guiding them through the broken and crumbling streets of the ruined city he called his home, they approached what must have once been a grand and magnificent palace.

This is where you will be staying, he’d said, before pointing to the doomhound. Scourge, watch over them for me.

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving Aria and sisters behind.

The doomhound approached them. Giving them a friendly grin, the ghostly hound laid down, offering them his back to ride on. Quickly forgetting her fears, Aria helped her sisters climb up on his back, before climbing up herself. Satisfied that all three of them were secure, the doomhound got up and walked deeper inside the ancient palace.

Do you remember me, Aria? he’d asked her. Because I remember you.

Yes… she’d said.

Opening her eyes once more, she saw the sandy cove before her. “I remember you, Master Scourge…” she whispered, feeling her eyes growing wet at his memory.

Blinking away her tears, Aria walked towards the cove as she contemplated what she should do next. Climbing over a small dune she was shocked with what she saw when she reached its crest. Slave smugglers. A group of about a dozen ponies, griffins, and a lone minotaur were in the process of unloading their cargo. They were moving cages full of shackled ponies and the odd griffin onto the beach below. Feeling her blood boil, she ducked down as she decided what she should do about it.

As a servant of the Slave King, she’d often been tasked with bringing down these slaver scum. However she was no longer in her father’s employ, and she had no reinforcements to call upon. This was the first time that she’d ever faced such a large number of foes on her own. Grabbing ahold of her arcanum long knife, she was contemplating what she should do, when she heard the rustling of grass behind her.

Before she had a chance to turn around, she felt a sharp blow against the back of her head. Slumping forward, she looked up and saw a purple seapony mare wearing an eyepatch and a cruel smile floating above her. Before she could recover, she saw the seapony raising the butt of her trident before she slammed into her head.

Before totally losing consciousness, the last thing she heard was the seapony calling out, “Oy, captain, I caught a mudslinger spying on us!”

*****

He reached out and felt the ley lines pulsing with power all around him. It seemed so alien to him. Although he’d tapped into their power several times already without realizing it, the act of deliberately trying to use magic seemed like it should be an impossibility. He was no magician or wizard, and magic wasn’t something that men were want to do. Sure, he’d had the odd daydream of using magic to bending the world to his whims, but that was pure flights of fancy, no one could really use magic, well for humans at least.

But here he was using magic consciously for the first time. Using the abundant verdant green ley lines before him, he was forming an ordinary rock into simple geometric shapes with his mind, as his hands and fingers directed the magic to go where he willed. He supposed that if wanted to be proficient, using only his mind would be the best way to go. But it felt so natural, waving his hands and wiggling his fingers to control the magic like some puppeteer manipulating a marionette on a string.

Before he’d never been able to see the ley lines, but now that his impromptu teacher had shown him how, he was unable to believe that he’d never been able to see them before. They were all around him, pulsing with power and free for the taking. They flowed every which way, over the ground, in the sea, up in the air, and even through the desert plants growing in the hard baked soil.

He supposed they probably connected everything in Equestria together, even himself. At first he was surprised that ley lines emanated from him, but reflecting oh how he'd come to be and what she’d told him of his origins, it made sense. After all, he was made from the divinity of two gods, and supposed as a result was a natural a part of the world as any of the rest. Though he still wondered if his darker half was as connected to Equestria as he seemed to be.

Remembering what he’d been told of him, anyone who could perform the feats he had, most certainly was. From what she’d told him, ley lines were streams of power and divinity that emanated from the Well of Eternity. It was a sacred and holy place that was the source of all creation, life, and magic in Equestria and beyond. As deities, she and her fellows on the Pantheon were responsible for maintaining balance and harmony throughout all creation, and as long as they performed their yearly renewals, all of Equestria would thrive and prosper.

Depending on its source, each ley line was of a different color and luminosity. She’d described how the color indicated what type of magic it contained. For example green held the power of the Earth, while blue was attuned to Water, and luminosity indicated whether the ley line was of shadow or light. So while a verdant green ley line might contain fertility and life, a sickly green one would be naught but rot and decay.

By using and combing the ley lines power in the proper manner, he could do all sorts of wondrous and marvelous things. She’d advised him that while most of the magic wielding inhabitants of Equestria were mainly attuned to a few types of magic, the gods could use all but their opposite to varying degrees of success.

Seeking to test what she’d taught him, he tried grabbing hold of the golden ley lines flowing down from the heavens, and found to his amusement that their power seemed to mostly slip through his fingers like so much quicksilver. He’d thought it'd be fun to fly, and had hoped to tap into the ley lines of air to try. But seeing that he’d gained only enough power to scarcely levitate himself above the ground a few inches, he abandoned any thoughts of flying through the heavens under his own power any time soon.

Even though the power of flight was beyond him, he found the abundant green earthen ley lines the easiest to manipulate. He spent a few minutes shaping the sand of the cove into intricate shapes and structures, and wondered what else he had the power to do. Soon he’d graduated to manipulating earthy loam and even stone. He found it was quite simple to do once he’d gotten the hang of things. All he had to do was envision what he wanted to have happen, and the magic directed by his fingers seemed to do all the work.

Curious about the other ley lines, he sought out the red and blue he’d yet to toy with. He found the blue fluid and cool, while the red was fickle and hot. Trying to direct the blue ley lines was like moving through molasses, while the red seemed easier to manipulate. However, the green remained the easiest for him to use, and after a bit of experimentation found that he could combine their power together to varying degrees of success.

With a bit of blue and green he’d made a fine clay, which he shaped into a tiny unicorn. Moving his hands and tracing with his finger, he etched details finer than should be possible along its surface. Eyes, fur, mane, and tail, it was all there. A perfect copy of her. Looking down at his creation, he felt his eyes welling up with tears. Tapping into the red and gold, he dried and hardened the clay, leaving behind a tiny lifelike unicorn mare in his hand.

It looked so real, almost as if it was alive. He ran his finger along its back and thought of her. Placing his hand on top of the small sculpture, he closed his eyes and thought of her. Inside his clasped hand, he felt something move. Quickly opening his hand, he was amazed at what he saw, the clay sculpture was moving on its own. Looking down, he examined what he'd made and was astonished.

The tiny unicorn pranced about on his hand, as it explored this new world. Approaching his fingers, he found its muzzle tickling him as it nibbled on them. Looking up at him, he saw it hold a look of wonderment on its muzzle, as it looked up into his eyes with devotion. But then something troubling happened, the tiny unicorn’s eyes rolled back into its head, and it collapsed onto his hand.

Concerned, he looked down at his creation with worry. He had no idea what to do, he’d never intended to create life, simply to make a small sculpture on a lark. He felt the tiny creature's ragged breathing in his hand, and felt its heartbeat begin to slow, until it was no more. To his horror, he saw the unicorn breathe its last, before it passed. In sorrow, he wept freely for the poor thing. He felt some of his tears hitting his hand, and watched as the pony’s body slowly crumbled away into dust, before finally being carried away by a gentle passing breeze.

Releasing his hold on the ley lines, he shook as he realized what he had just done. He’d created the poor creature, and due to his inexperience had let it die. What had once been a source of curious amusement and wonder to him, now felt like a great weight pressing down upon his soul, and it troubled him. He had such power at his fingertips, and either due to his carelessness or ignorance had created and killed his creation. This power, it was an awesome responsibility, and he felt completely unprepared to wield it.

He longed for her to return from her errands to rejoin him, so that he could talk with her some more. He didn’t quite know what to think or do, and felt unsure of himself. She’d told him to practice using his magic while she was away, so that he could get acquainted with it. But now that he had, he didn’t know if he wanted it. What if he used it and hurt another again, he didn’t know if he could live with himself should that happen.

Returning to the stone, he decided to keep practicing by reshaping the stone into simple shapes until she returned. Adding a second and third stone to the mix, he discovered that unlike himself, he was able to levitate the stones with ease. He thought that perhaps it had something to do with the abundance of green within the small stones, but decided he would ask her about it once she’d come back.

Lost in thought, he meditated on the waves hitting the sandy cove as he slowly morphed the stones from shape to shape. As the stones orbited around his head, he saw in the distance a ship approaching him. Releasing his magic’s hold, he let the three stones fall to the sand, Getting up, he ran away from the cove towards the wastes that had laid behind him, looking for someplace safe to hide until she had returned to his side.

*****

Disembarking from the skiff he was riding in, a yellow unicorn stepped out onto the sandy beach before him. Walking on the sand, he felt his hoof pressing down on something hard. Looking at his hooves, he saw an odd sight. Before him were three stones. A cube, a sphere, and a cone. Levitating them with his magic he closely examined them. Each was perfectly shaped, without flaw or imperfection. A masterwork of stone carving. Wondering where they had come from, he looked up and down the beach for anypony, and found no one.

Satisfied he was alone, he placed the three curious stones into his saddlebag, and returned to his compatriots still inside the skiff. “All right then, send out our courier to Shadehoof,” he said, giving the empty cove behind him one last look. “Looks like this stretch of shore is completely empty. So start unloading the slaves. Once we have the paperwork we need, courtesy of our scrivener, we can rest easy.”

But unbeknownst to the unicorn, a pair of light brown eyes hardened at his words, and laid patiently in wait for the perfect chance to strike.

Author's Note

Thank you gentlereader for reading chapter ten of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, as always comments are appreciated.

Gentlereaders, thank you for your patience in waiting for chapter eleven. Writing it took another week more then I expected. Hopefully I'll be able to release future chapters more quickly. With the completion of this chapter I'll finish up the third Slave King ask me anything noncanon chapter, once its been completed, and start working on chapter twelve. As such, I'm no longer accepting further questions for the ask me anything. If you missed your chance, gentlereader, I apologize. Hopefully if you are so inclined you can try the next time I decide to do something like this.

Now that, that bit of business has been mention, we'll proceed to meat of the notes.

Poor Nightmare, so loyal to the Slave King, yet she's been relegated forgotten to the sidelines in her quest to push aside Princess Luna as her master's wife. For his part, Scourge too seems to be been brushed aside in favor of his former subordinate, Second. Who knows how long their power struggle will last, and most importantly who shall ultimately emerge victorious in their little squabble.

The ponies in the palace seem content enough to work for the Slave King, Nightmare's viciousness not withstanding, who knows perhaps their usefulness to the Slave King in this capacity will make him rethink his policy regarding free labor versus employing only slaves. Alas we can only wait and see, if their dutiful service will finally bring him around to the idea.

vast me hearties, along the coast, a dastardly captain and his wicked crew carry a forbidden cargo to a desolate location. Will these purveyors of wickedness succeed in their plans to smuggle slaves, Or will they be discovered, and hindered by somepony with the means and will to stop them?

Glitterwing seems to be chomping at the bit, eager to finally discover the meaning behind her vision's cryptic meaning. Well with her master's blessing, and Bucky at her side, perhaps they will discover the truth of the matter together, or at least avoid incurring any late fees from the library. Hopefully the scholars in the Ziggurat of Knowledge won't revoke her library card.

Aria has finally reached the end of her father's domain, but will it be far enough for her to decide what she truly wishes to do with her life. Should she continue in her search for the path she she should take, or return to her father and his uncaring ways? An interesting question in search of an answer, but for now, she has a more pressing matter to determine. How to escape her captors with her wings and feathers intact.

Having been taught the basic principals of magic by Lady Suzaku, Elrey has plenty on his mind to keep him occupied. For example, his apparent enjoyment of shapes, and flying. However unlike flying, he can at least count on a future career in stone carving if that is his desire. Having unwittingly discovered his knack for creation, we can only wonder if he has any desire to reattempt it in the future? Perhaps Lady Suzaku or another would be willing to train him in the sublimity of its secret art? And lastly, though he hides in fear at the slavers, will the cries of those at the mercy of the slavers move him to action, or will he refuse to move and aid them, like he had Snowe?

Find out the answers to these questions and more, in the next exciting chapter of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, coming soon to computer near you!

Once again, gentlereader, thank you for reading and all your kind words and support. You make writing worthwhile. Until next time!

Twas Naught but a Midsummer's Night's Dream, but hey, at Least They Enjoyed the Ride

The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter

A Story by TalonMach5

Twas Naught but a Midsummer's Night's Dream, but hey, at Least They Enjoyed the Ride

He awoke in the darkness, not sure as to where he was. Slowly opening his eyes, all he saw was a vast expanse of nothingness. Closing his eyes, he sighed. Whether he left them open or closed, it made no difference. His eyes saw nothing but the dark that obfuscated his sight, clouded his vision, and left him shrouded in uncertainty. Once, long ago, he'd wandered alone, lost in a similar darkness bereft of all kith or kin. Like then, he was lost in the dark, but today he wasn't alone.

Closing his eyes, he could sense that she was nearby. Reaching out, he felt the familiar warmth of her presence enveloping him, embracing him, covering him with the intimate silken touch of her femininity. In an odd way, he found it comforting, knowing that even lost in the unfathomable depths of this darkness, he was not alone. That regardless of their previous quarrels, here in this dark, desolate place, he could be sure that he had at least one ally.

Before, when he was yet mortal, being lost in a dreary place like this had nearly brought him to the brink of madness, as his fear and loneliness had nearly brought him to his knees. But that was then, and this was now. Such mortal concerns like food, drink, and sleep were beneath him. He'd thought that could ignore loneliness as if it were any other mortal frailty. But to his surprise, the first time that he'd ever been truly alone since he'd put mortal worries behind him, and the solace that he wasn't alone was a balm to his soul. True, they'd not been joined for long, but as far as allies went he could do far worse then she.

Wishing to gain his bearings he tried standing, but found it an impossible task. He narrowed his burning green eyes in annoyance, not only was he lost in the dark, he was aimlessly floating about in a void of nothingness. Had he been anyone else in this predicament, he might have been worried, if he were still mortal, he might have feared. But he was neither mortal nor someone else, he was who he was, the Slave King, the Lord of Earth. Although he was floating about without purpose like a leaf on the wind, he was not without any recourse. Being who he was granted him unique privileges.

Closing his eyes, he reached out until he felt her presence once more. Wife... he spoke, using words inaudible to all but the divine.

Yea, beloved? she replied, the hesitation in her voice betraying her uncertainty to him.

Are you unharmed? he asked, reaching out to her.

Verily, beloved, she answered, her uncertainty evaporating as she spoke with him. But art thou? We wert so worried for thy sake!

Wife, it appears I'm no worse for the wear, he said with a slight smile of satisfaction, as he felt her power touching his.

Within moments, she began pulling him to her as he did the same. Pulling each other towards the center of this void, time seemed to loose all meaning for him. There was no light, no landmarks, nothing but her slowly strengthening power to indicate he was actually moving. Without anything to mark the time, not even his own nonexistent heartbeat, he was forced to do the last thing he desired, converse with his wife.

Wife, where are we? he asked in idle curiosity, feeling that any knowledge of this formless void probably held little use at the moment.

Husband, here we art beyond all mine divine and esoteric knowledge, she replied after a moments reflection. We art not given to knowing overly much of these secret and hidden places like the Winding One.

Jormungandr... he murmured, wishing greatly that he had the ear of his erstwhile ally.

Beloved, worry not, she reassured him, sending a pulse of her divinity along his, until it was coursing through his being.

He felt her strength and divinity within him and was puzzled. He was no longer weak like he once was. Wife, conserve your strength, I no longer require your assistance, he rumbled, as he pulled extra hard on the bond that held them fast together.

Beloved? she meekly asked, as the uncertainty he once had slowly filled her heart.

Sensing her distress at his words, he offered his own divinity to succor her. Wife, I only meant that foul curse is no longer afflicting me, he said, freely intermingling his power with hers.

Oh, pray tell, mine husband, relieved that her fears that he would abandon her the moment he was made whole were unfounded.

It appears this place is without form and function, and so my curse no longer has any power over me, he explained, feeling his impromptu theory about his miraculous recovery was as good as any other.

Tis most fortuitous indeed, beloved, she said, feeling her heart swell with joy that he'd finally recovered from his ailment. Thy recovery tis a cause for jubilation and celebration indeed. Mayhaps we might retire to thy bath once more to celebrate thy healing and restoration once we've returned to our domain together.

He remembered the brief time they'd spent bathing together earlier that night, and the harsh words they'd exchanged in anger, as he felt the gentle caress of her power pulling him ever closer. Those unkind words spoken in haste, she hadn't deserved them. It had been nice while it lasted, sitting there beside each other in silence, until he'd misspoken and had offended her.

She was close now, he could smell the pleasant sweet scent of her jasmine and moon flower infused mane. Pulling her closer to him, he considered their options and what to do next. Being gods they were in no danger of starving, but beyond the certainty they wouldn't perish from hunger, if they couldn't discover a means of escaping would they be trapped together in his dark void until the end of time? He was about to account for all the possessions he had on his person, when he felt a pair of hooves wrapping around his chest, squeezing him tightly enough to lose his wind.

"Wife, ugh Luna!" he protested in surprise, at the strength of her embrace, before feeling her lips pressing against his in a gentle kiss.

"Beloved, we art so relieved thou art whole," she said, breaking her stolen kiss.

He wet his lips and tasted her on his tongue. "Wife, perhaps we should consider our position and resources before losing ourselves to passion," he gently chided her, hoping to prevent any future unwanted advances.

"Oh, sorry..." she murmured, releasing him from her hooves iron grasp.

Although he couldn't see her through the inky blackness, he was fairly certain that if it were possible, her blushing face would banish the darkness with its intensity. Reaching out his metal hand he gently placed it on her shoulder and softly stroked her. "So, wife, have any ideas?" he asked her, hoping her longer life and greater experience might shed some light on their current predicament.

"Husband, truthfully no," she answered, pulling him closer to her with an outstretched wing. "Our inception had not yet begun before creation's grand beginning."

"So do you think that we've been sent hurtling through creation to a time before everything came to be?" he asked, resting against the soft feathers of her wing.

"Verily, either that, or to some distant yonder world that tis yet to be," she agreed, wrapping him within her billowing tail.

Suddenly it dawned on him, her mane and tail! "Luna, shouldn't the stars within your mane and tail be visible?" he asked, momentarily forgetting his reticence to be familiar with her.

"Verily, dear husband," she said, offering him a smile unseen at his use of her name. "Until thou mentioned it, we hast not considered the reasons for their absence."

"Has something snuffed out the magic with them?" he asked, concerned for their own stores of magic. Magical stores that while vast, he was unsure whether they could be renewed without access to their domains or the Well of Eternity.

"Nay, beloved," she said, lightly resting her muzzle on his shoulder. "We hast expended copious amounts of power to reach thee, and our divinity hast not been diminished one iota."

"How is that possible?" he wondered, confused by how this place seemed to defy all the magical rules and conventions he was familiar with.

"We know not, husband," she answered, peering into the inky depths of this unfathomable place. "But we count it fortunate indeed, that entropy dost not threaten our undoing in this unfamiliar place."

"Yes, it would be annoying to wither away to nothing, without a chance to renew ourselves," he said, running his hands over himself to determine what possessions he had on him. "So got anything useful on yourself, wife?"

Using her magic, she ran a scan along herself searching for anything that might be of use to them. "Husband, we hast naught but our crown, peytral, and shoes," she said, disappointed she didn't have anything more to offer.

"Wife, I'm not much better off myself," he admitted with a slight chuckle. "Beyond my crown, cloak, and ragged clothes, I'm as much a pauper as you."

"Then what shoudst we do, beloved?" she asked, worried, yet relieved that her husband was still in good spirits, all things considered.

"I'd say if this formless void is some desolate world yet to be born, perhaps we should see to siring it," he said, longing for at least a little light and solid ground beneath his feet.

At his suggestion, her cheeks flushed crimson and tail nervously twitched. Was he being serious with her? Did he truly desire to do so with her, despite all his earlier protestations. "Beloved husband," she purred, overjoyed that he finally desired her enough to fulfill his husbandly duties with her, and in such a romantic setting too! "Twould be out privilege and honor as thy wife, to shape creation with thee!"

Confused by her exuberance, he offered her an odd look which given the darkness she couldn't see. "Excuse me?" he asked, wondering why she seemed so eager to start. "Wife, I just thought a little light and something to stand on would be a refreshing change from floating aimlessly about."

"Oh..." she slowly replied, laying her ears back in disappointment. "We thought that thou..."

"Wife, my apology for misspeaking," he said, realizing what his words must have sounded like to her hungry heart.

"Husband, tis we and not thee that owes thee recompense," she said, the bitterness in her voice being palpable. "We wert a foal to think thou hadst any interest in us, especially here of all places!"

"Luna, I didn't mean to offend you, I just..." he said, unsure what he should say next to placate his angry wife.

"Thou just what?" she demanded, staring daggers at him through the darkness. "Wish thou wert married to another mayhaps? One of thy former loves, hmm, or that loose trollop, Minoa?"

"Hey now! I didn't choose this willingly, and you very well know that!" he snapped, feeling his anger rise at her baseless accusations. "Had Celestia..."

Before he could finish, he found himself knocked back from the impact of her front right hoof striking him in anger. "Mine sister had what!" she accused, losing all restraint. "Been the one thou hast married instead?"

Reaching up to his throbbing cheek, he felt his hand grow wet. She had struck him and drew blood, had he been weak it might have been the end of him. Fortunately though, this place had removed all his former frailty and infirmities, allowing him to weather such a blow with ease. He felt his blood run hot as he sharply drew breathe through his nostrils and out through his mouth. It was almost like old times again. Back when he'd been with Lady Zephyr and Suzaku, both of the goddesses had been given to bouts of violence and anger at his steadfast refusal to give them what they wanted. But such spats were always temporary and always ended the same, reconciliation in less then a day. In fact he was fairly certain that was how most of the feathered folk had come to be.

He heard his wife trying her best to hide her tears as she shook and quietly sniffled with her back to him. Knowing what he needed to do, he reached out his hand to placate her. "Luna, I'm sorry," he said, softly stroking his hand along her back between her wings.

Feeling his hand touching her she flinched, afraid of his reprisal. But when none was forthcoming, she relaxed and let him stroke and pet her in silence. Feeling hurt and angry, she refused to look at where she supposed he was. tilting her ears, she heard the ragged sound of his breathing and relaxed. His dexterous hands and nimble fingers felt heavenly against her coat, and she almost thought about forgiving him, but not quite yet.

"Husband, thou hast vexed me sore, with thy unfeeling words," she halfheartedly huffed, unfolding her wings to give his wondrous fingers better access.

For his part he said nothing as he began running his fingers through her silken mane, content to allow her to vent out her frustrations at him. He felt her shudder slightly at his touch, and kept at it. He was sure if she was anything like the others, that soon she would start being reasonable and offer reconciliation for her unprovoked attack against him. Trying to get better access, he found laying against her barrel allowed both his hands easier access. Laying against her, he did his best to placate and assuage his wife's misplaced anger. Soon he heard her happily sigh as he traced his fingers along where he considered her cutie mark most likely was.

"Beloved, wert thou always so gentle and loving..." she lamented, as he withdrew his hands from her.

"Wife... er, Luna," he said, moving her muzzle to face him. "We will be here alone together into the foreseeable future. What you desire from me, I will not give you, but let us at least reside together in peace."

"Verily, beloved," she replied, all the earlier bitterness of her tone having fled. Lowering her head, she touched her horn to his head, signifying her forgiveness.

Tired of the dark, he sighed. "If there was only light enough to see the nose on my face," he grumbled, having had more than his fill of the inky void.

"True, mine love," she agreed, tired of being blind in the darkness and wishing she could see her beloved's face once more. "Couldst I raise mine moon above this desolate place, and bless it with a curtain of silvery light."

"If it was only as simple as that," he said, glad he wasn't alone here in the dark. "To say to the dark, let there be light, and there be light."

"If only, husband," she agreed, feeling her spirits lift at his words. Imagining that they were to be the parents to his unborn world, she raised up her voice, and uttered the words, "let there be light!"

Within moments, the stars within her mane and tail banished the darkness with their gentle, twinkling light. Looking at her, he was amazed by how beautiful and ethereal they made her appear to be. She was as the cloak of night covering the heavens, looking at the starlight reflected in her eyes, he offered her a warm smile before remembering himself.

"How is such a thing done?" he asked, wondering what else they might be able to do within this void.

"Beloved, I simply spoke the words, and it was done," she explained, offering her husband the best explanation she could.

Deciding to test her words for himself, he grabbed hold of her and stretched forth his foot. "Earth, come forth!" imagining there was solid ground waiting beneath his expectant foot. No sooner had he spoken the words, he felt his toes and the ball of his feet touch something hard and unyielding. It was the ground. No sooner had the realization hit him, he felt a downward pull, as both he and his wife fell to the ground.

"Oof," she grunted, rubbing her shoulder with her hoof. Happy to finally be able to stand on her own hooves once more, she offered him a smile of gratitude. "Husband, twould appear our words have power here."

"It appears so, but to what extent?" he asked, gesturing towards the empty nothingness all around them. "The light from your mane is better then nothing, but is scarcely enough to see by."

"Verily, and it wouldst seemeth to us that the ground beneath our hooves is scarcely enough for us to find purchase," she said, looking at her tail which seemed content to billow around and beneath her hooves as if nothing was there.

"I suppose then, we have no alternative," he murmured, resigning himself to what needed to be done.

Opening his mouth, he sang a few bars of a solemn melody. Holding out his hand to her, he gestured to his wife to join him. Listening to his song for several bars, she sang in an alto to compliment his deeper voice. Singing together, the sounds of their music filled the void as his eyes burned with intense green flames and her horn alit with a heavenly blue light. As they lifted their voices together as one in song, the infinite darkness that permeated the void, faded away unto nothingness, as light came to be.

Light and dark, two opposites, each in diametric opposition one to the other, coexisted here in an uneasy truce. Using their song, she shaped and formed the light into a bright orb of power, as he casted the dark into a celestial firmament. Together their song moved the light and dark into a harmonious balance, as each gave way to the other at its appointed time. She saw what they had wrought and nodded to her husband approvingly, though it was an unfamiliar sight, their creation was a thing of beauty.

Noting her approval at his handiwork, he looked away, hoping to hide the blush that was coloring his otherwise pale cheeks. Having been content to allow her to take the lead in separating the light and dark, he started a new verse. His voice rose to new heights as he began singing in a fever pitch. Beneath his feet, earth and stone formed, both high and low, and straight and narrow. Smiling at him once more, she sung in an more even tone, as the space above their heads swirled and agitated, forming heavy clouds and gentle winds. Matching each others tempo, their voices rose together as one to the heavens, causing it to rain.

As it rained down from the heavens onto the dry earth, the deep became sea, while the high became mountains. Thus the twain, husband and wife, had both made heaven and earth, land and sea. He could feel the thrum of this new worlds heartbeat beneath his feet, and approved. She had done well, he could feel it in his bones, the work was finely wrought and masterly crafted. The rain gently fell upon them, running down his beard and her coat in rivulets.

He began circling her, as she intently watched. He sang and she listened. She swayed in time to his song, and began slowly dancing alongside him. Lifting their legs together, the tempo and beat of their song began to increase. With each stomp of her hoof and pound of his foot, plants sprung forth. Lush grass and fragrant flowers bloomed in some places, while untamed forests and wild jungles took root in others. Together, the two danced at a fevered pace, singing of creation and a hundred other things unknown to mortal understanding, and each more wondrous than the last.

All around them, the refreshing scent of newly broken earth and blooming flowers infused the air about them. Spying an apple tree heavily laden with fruit, she plucked one with her magic and offered it to her husband. Pausing a moment to accept her gift, he broke it in two and returned part to her. Biting into the apple's flesh together, they ate together in silence before resuming their song once more. Tossing the cores behind them, hers struck a tree, causing myriad birds to take wing into the air; while his fell into the water, making divers fish to spring forth from the deep.

Tired and winded from their riotous dancing, he laid down on a grass field, and looked up at the sun overhead. Looking to her, he motioned with his head for her to join him. Eager to rejoin her husband, she sat on her haunches alongside him. He said nothing, but spying a stone at his feet he picked it up and tossed it into the distance. Moments later, a badger walked out from the bushes, giving them both a curious look before going on its way. Picking up another he offered her one, and watched as she threw her stone even further. Spying in the distance a hedgehog waddling out from the underbrush, he gave her a bemused smile before throwing another.

They amused themselves, taking turns throwing stones into the wild, watching and waiting to see what would come forth until they'd had their fill. They sat together in silence, enjoying the quiet until the sun began setting. Lying back, he closed his eyes as he enjoyed the feeling of basking in the golden light of the world they'd made.

Feeling her looking down upon him, he opened his eyes, and gave her a questioning look. "Yes, wife, what is it?" he asked, closing his eyes once more.

"Beloved, art thou pleased with what we hast wrought here together?" she said, looking down at his contented face.

Opening his eyes once more, he offered her a slight smile. Sitting up, he gazed over their creation, and pointed out towards the horizon. "From heaven to earth, from sea to land, each is in its place and serves its own purpose," he said, lowering his hand and leaning back. "What we have made here, wife, you and I. It is right and good."

"But, beloved, thou hast forgotten one last thing," she said, offering him a demur smile, and gently nuzzling his cheek.

"And what, wife, would that be?" he cautiously asked, well aware of what she was getting at.

"Shouldst we not grace this land with a tribe to call our good work, home?" she implored, lightly nibbling on his ear. "Surely twould be a shame if none but us might enjoy its plentiful bounty."

"No, wife, I cannot," he said, withdrawing from her advances.

"Then all we hast wrought here, all our grand works wert in vain, and shalt be left to ruin," she lamented, her ears dropping with sorrow at his steadfast refusal to partake at what she'd offered him.

"Then in vain it will be," he coldly replied, standing up and moving away from her.

He was about to say something more, when the sound of thunder cracked above them. Looking up, he saw the last deity he'd ever want to see looking down at him with smirking eyes and wearing a crooked grin, His yellow eyes held a touch of madness within them, as his serpentine body floated effortlessly above them. They both offered the trickster god of chaos a disapproving look as they awaited for the inevitable chaos that invariably followed in his wake.

"So are you two lovebirds enjoying the little wedding gift I arranged for you?" he asked, looking down at the unamused newlyweds.

"Discord..." the Slave King rumbled, ruminating over how best to avenge himself on the draconequus .

"Deceitful trickster," Luna sternly said, looking towards Discord, than her husband, and back to Discord once more. "Fie, hast thou no shame? A pox upon thee for assaulting mine husband, and disturbing the tranquility of our home!"

Discord offered her a teasing grin, as he placed a talon under her chin. "Oh, Luna, you delightful old stick in the mud," he said with small laugh, before quickly withdrawing his talon to avoid being bitten by her gnashing teeth. "Oh, how I've missed your quick wit and sharp tongue."

"Touch us again, liar," Luna hissed through tightly clenched teeth, pointing her horn squarely at him. "And we shalt show thee how sharp our tongue and more canst truly be."

"Oh, princess, that's no way for a respectable member of the Pantheon to behave," he chided her, tsking at her with his talon and paw. "Besides, your hubby and I our the best of friends, so why can't we be as well?"

"Friends, hardly," the Slave King snorted, amused at Discord's idea of friendship. "More like allies of convenience. Your convenience."

"Oh, how your words wound me, old friend," Discord replied, pulling out his still beating heart from his chest, and presenting it to him.

"I believe any balance I owe regarding your timely assistance in that regard, Discord, has been more than adequately repaid," he said, pointing his thumb towards the angry scar on his chest.

"So come now, Slave King, tell me how you've enjoyed my gift celebrating your marriage to the lovely Luna?" Discord asked, surveying the world they'd created together.

"You call being spirited away against your will to an empty void without a word a gift?" he asked, pointing his metal finger at the trickster.

"Slave King, I thought you and the missus might appreciate a proper honeymoon, especially considering what happened between you on your wedding night," he explained, snapping his talons and appearing before them in the same finery he wore to their wedding.

"Discord, return us to my domain this instant," he growled, pointing a metal finger at him.

"No, I don't think I want to, at least not yet," Discord answered, lifting up his muzzle at them in mock indignation.

"That wasn't a request," the Slave King warned, his eyes flaring with power.

"Why ever not?" Luna demanded, equally annoyed with both Discord and her husband. "Thou hast spirited us away for naught but thine own twisted and devilish amusements."

"Perhaps, because the two of you are ingrates," he replied, sticking out his serpentine tongue at her. "I went to all this trouble to provide the both of you a honeymoon you'd never forget, and instead of receiving a thanks for my trouble, all I've heard is nothing but complaints."

"Discord, fine. Thank you for your most thoughtful gift, now return us," the Slave King reiterated, clenching his metal hand into a metal fist.

"I can't, at least not yet," Discord replied, returning to his earlier jovial mood.

"Discord, we art quite through with thy fickle games and half baked schemes," Luna said pointing a hoof accusingly at the trickster. "Return us at once, or we shalt call for a moot and sue thee once we hast escaped thee!"

Rolling his eyes at her threat, Discord offered her a smug grin. "Oh, go on, Princess Moony, sue me at your earliest convenience," he taunted, pulling at his wild goatee. "But I doubt your dear sister could manage a harsher punishment then I'm already suffering under."

Tiring of his antics, the Slave King decided to change his tactics from threats and intimidation, and turned to something else. "So tell me then, friend, this game we must play," he sternly said, lowering his gravely voice to a low rumble. "Tell us, so we can jump through your hoops as quickly as possible, and send us on our way home."

"I can't, not yet, friend," he reiterated, dropping to the ground so he could look them in the eyes. "I wasn't lying when I said they were inquiring after you."

Not sure if her quite believed what he was being told, but knowing that when it came to the draconequus, nothing was beyond the realm of possibility, he nodded once. "Very well, Discord," he said, offering his hand to his wife for her to follow. "Take us to them, for I believe we have much to discuss with those who thought to order the Lord of Earth and Lady of Night about."

"Oh, yes, of course, Slave King, Luna," he said, clapping his talon and paw together in delight. "Oh, this will be so exciting, you'll see!"

Luna offered her husband a look that suggested that she believed Discord had finally lost all reason. "Beloved," she warily said, affectionately nuzzling his side. "Tread carefully when agreeing to take part in his deceitful antics, the knave hast been known to take advantage of those who hast engaged him in good faith."

"Then, wife, should he prove false, we'll have to deal with him together," he said, offering her a wry smile.

"Nothing would give greater pleasure, beloved," she purred, pressing up against him.

"Alright, you two lovebirds, break it up," Discord said, with a teasing smirk. "There will be time enough to get mushy after our little meet and greet."

"Who art we to meet, them mayhaps?" Luna sardonically said, offering the draconequus a sour look. "Pray tell, trickster, where art thy hidden masters hidden away too, all they who hast commanded thee to do their bidding?"

"Oh, you'll see soon enough," Discord cheerfully said, sharply snapping his talons, causing a swirling portal to open before them. "Now come inside so we can finally begin!"

Holding up his hand to make Luna halt, the Slave King stepped towards the portal. "Wife," he said, lightly poking the portal with his metal finger. "I'll go through first, should your concerns prove correct, I'll leave Discord to you."

"Husband, we... I..." she stammered, before moving forward and giving him a tender kiss on the lips. "Be safe, beloved."

"Gag me," Discord said at the sight of them kissing together.

Feeling his pale cheeks flush slightly, he gave Discord a dour look before stepping through the portal. What he saw there made his blood boil. "Luna, don't come it's a trap..." he tried shouted, before being violently knocked into the ground by his wife.

"Forgive us, husband," she said, looking sheepishly at her hooves. "Discord fooled us. Once thou went through the portal. The diabolical fiend caused the portal to expand to gobble us whole."

"Well, wife, I wouldn't feel too bad about if I were you," the Slave King said pointing up over head.

What she saw there were boggled the mind. The Pantheon in its entirety were there, each in their massive elemental forms beating on the walls of what she supposed was their new prison. "Discord," she growled, shedding her earthly form and becoming an entity of pure shadow and silver starlight. Looking down at where the portal once was, she unleashed the full might of her divinity upon it. "Husband, come and join us . Mayhaps we might succeed in escaping, shouldst we work in unison!"

Her words had not gone unnoticed, he saw high above them a massive dragon consisting of naught but smoke and fire seeming to do battle with a large seapony shape of water and mare much brighter then the sun. Each paused their fight for the moment, and turned to look at those who'd intruded upon their war.

"King, you decrepit, witless man-thing!" he heard the flames crackle and roar. "How fortunate for me, that we've managed to meet here today!"

"Lord Ouroboros..." he muttered, giving the elemental form of the Fire Tyrant a dismissive look.

"You'll wish you'd used that balefire I gifted you before this day is through!" he roared, snapping once at his other foes, as he tried readying his attack.

For his part, when the Slave King heard his boasting, he released a dark chuckle. "Oh, Lord Ouroboros, you petulant wurm, when will you ever learn?" he said, clenching his arcanum clad fist into a fist, as he prepared to do battle with long time foe. "If you want a rematch, I'm more then ready to give you a double portion of what I gave you last time."

Releasing a roar of fury, the Fire Tyrant knocked aside all those who were harrying him with his great wings, and span as he dived to assault the Slave King. Release a torrent of smoke and fire from his great maw, the Lord of Fire, prepared to reduce the Lord of Earth to little more than charred embers.

Above them Celestia in the form of a mare of light, and Triton in the form of a seapony of water cried out in unison, "Stop fighting at once, Lord Ouroboros!"

Looking at his surroundings, he saw his wife looking down at him with concern, while Lady Suzaku and Lady Zephyr were rushing through the air to join at his side. Suzaku's flames traveled along Zephyr's wake, as she beat her wings hard. He was about, to drop his own mortal coil so he could enjoin in the battle against the Fire Tyrant, when he was struck from behind by a spear of ice. The moment is hit his back, it splintered into a thousand tiny shards, showering him with a fine icy mist.

"Wicked murderer!" a voice filled with equal parts fury and loss screamed at him. "I, Cerynitis the Rimefrost and Lord of Winter, shall rid our world of your wicked taint, and free my dear moon flower from your vile clutches."

The enraged reindeer launched another three spears of ice in quick succession, before the Slave King could defend himself. This time, each icy weapons found purchase, piercing his back and side with a heavy thunk. The Slave King screamed in pain, as he brought down his metal fist, knocking the ice spears free from his pallid flesh. Turning to meet his ambusher, he saw the Lord of Winter was a one horned stag of immense proportions. Made of ice, and covered with frost that was steaming from the heat of this place. With a hate filled look, he stomped his ice covered hooves, lowered his lone antler, and prepared to charge.

"Take care of Ouroboros, beloved," Luna shouted, before she slammed Lord Cerynitis in the side, much to his shock, dismay, and surprise. "Leave Cerynitis to me!"

More than happy to let his wife deal with her former paramour, the Slave King returned his attention to the fight above his head.
Steeling himself for Lord Ouroboros's incoming onslaught, he saw to his dismay, that Lord Cerynitis's ambush, had provided enough of a distraction to allow the great flaming dragon to nearly grab him with his claws. Leaping out of the way as best he could, he felt his open wounds burn, as his enemies flames licked him.

Knowing he had little time left, if he wished to engage Ouroboros on the ground, the Slave King dropped his mortal form as he leapt out of the way. Growing bulkier and larger, he felt his legs smashing into the great dragon's flaming body, as he attempted to recover his footing before his foe could. Pounding his fully arcanum arm into the earth beneath him, he used the energy from the powerful blow to lift him to his knees, and then his feet. Now fully metal and stone, he was much taller and could see things much easier then he had before.

Luna's horn and Cerynitis's antler were locked, as each struggled to overcome the other. Suzaku and Zephyr, were fighting beak and claw with a giant Lady Minoa, who's godly form was a towering minotaur made up of earth and flowering vines. The Lady of Spring, seemingly discontent in avoiding a fight, had seen fit to draw them into a brawl of her own. Circling overhead, Celestia and Triton were trying their best to regain order over the Pantheon and failing spectacularly, while Lord Ouroboros lay on his side near the Slave King's feet, fully stunned.

Deciding this was a golden opportunity, he drew back his heavy arcanum fist and brought it down as hard he could muster. Lord Ouroboros roared in agony as the mighty blow struck against his flaming hide, causing him to angrily hiss and snap his jaws at his foe. Before the Slave King could land another strike, the Fire Tyrant reached forth and latched onto the Slave King's arm with his sharp teeth and powerful jaws. Fortunately for him, most of the bite was centered on his arm. However a good portion of the dragons teeth were cutting through his stony flesh.

Bellowing in pain, the Slave King grappled with the Fire Tyrant, and tried forcibly opening his enemy's maw to release his arm from his jaws. Using his free arm, he began striking the great serpent in the head with all his might, ignoring the tail striking him and the claws raking his flesh. Surely but slowly, he was beginning to overwhelm his opponent and starting to break the deadlock which held them in a seemingly unending stalemate. But Lord Ouroboros refused to lose against his bitter rival again, not this time. Inhaling deeply, he released a jet of flame and smoke that obscured the Lord of Earth's sight. The moment they struck him, the Slave King stopped fighting as he sought to shield himself from the onslaught of hellfire and brimstone.

Above the quarreling gods, tucked safely away in a corner, the mischievous scion of chaos laughed as he saw the supposedly united Pantheon of Equestria locked in mortal combat with itself. At his side was full box of popcorn, which he was ignoring in favor of eating the box. He looked at his great work and tittered with glee. "Yes, that's it!" Discord shouted, punching the air with his fist. "Dance you puppets, dance!"

"Discord!" Princess Celestia, Lady of Day, and head of the Pantheon roared, shaking the room as her mighty voice overwhelmed the din of his chaos.

"Oops," he said with a small smirk, once he'd been discovered by her. "Time for me to head to stage left to make a hasty retreat."

However before he could make use of his potent chaos magic, he found himself entangled and held fast by magical tendrils of light and water.

"Fiend, you've gone too far this time," Lord Triton, the Lawgiver and Lord of Water said, leveling a stern look at the caught and bound trickster.

"Discord, I believe the Pantheon may need to discuss in length, your future in Tartarus," Celestia said, lowering her horn and pointing it at him.

"Wait, but it's not my fault!" Discord said, getting down on his knees and holding up a crying crocodile to his captors. "Blame the poor schools, blame my parents, blame the universe!"

"Stop this fighting, and I'll see about granting you some clemency for your crimes here today," she said, glaring at him with her lavender eyes. "But this senseless violence needs to stop now."

"Very well, killjoys..." he muttered, disappointed that his fun had ended so soon.

With a snap of his fingers, everyone present had been returned to their mortal forms. Each of them were wounded to varying degrees, and once the shock of having been striped of their elemental forms had worn off, dozens of annoyed, angry, and furious pairs of eyes glared down at the trickster god.

"Discord, what do you have to say for yourself?" Celestia said, tapping her hoof impatiently as she awaited his explanation.

"Would you believe I simply missed being around you guys?" he said, giving them a wide grin.

"Discord!" she shouted, nearly beside herself in anger at his unceasing antics.

"Oh fine, geez," he grumbled, shaking his head that even now, nopony could understand his genius. "Everypony, I've gathered you all here today at their bequest."

"Who?" Triton asked, not sure if he'd heard him right.

"You know," Discord said, bringing up his paw to his muzzle and loudly whispering his response as he pointed to nowhere in particular. "Them, they, those guys."

"Sister, Discord hast obviously lost all sense to madness, and hast finally allowed his mind become transmuted unto wood," Luna said, stomping her hoof in righteous indignation. "This foul beast, he hast abused us and mine husband most horribly. We demand he be cast into Tartarus to join the unmentionable one with all haste."

"My wife feels rather out of sorts at your behavior, Discord," the Slave King said, rubbing his bruised and bleeding shoulder. "And to be honest, I'm inclined to agree with her. You've tormented us for no good reason."

"But, Slave King, you wouldn't just toss out an old friend out on his ear; at least not without giving them a chance to explain themselves first," he said, his eyes transforming into tiny, adorable puppies that whimpered and whined as they plead his case to the lord of Earth.

"Discord, you mentioned something about someone inquiring after me," he said, wondering why the spirit of chaos had gone to all this trouble to simply be caught to face a fate worse then being trapped in stone. "You said you weren't lying, so if you're truly me friend, reveal to us your coconspiritors, the reasons for their interest in us, and what they hoped to gain from our strife and quarrels."

"Give me your word, Slave King, that you'll spare me from Tartarus, and I'll show you all," he bargained, holding out his claw to shake.

The Slave King firmly grabbed the draconequus's claw and shook it. "Everyone, listen well," he said, looking at each of his fellow deities, pausing to making sure he looked both Princess Celestia and Lord Triton in the eye. "I have a pact with Discord, and as the overseer of Cerberus and Tartarus, none may enter it without my express permission. Should he honor our agreement, I'll release him back into Celestia's custody. But should he prove false, I'll leave him to do with, what you will."

Princess Celestia crinkled her brow. Without the Slave King's cooperation, safely imprisoning Discord in Tartarus was impossible. Unhappy but knowing she had no alternative, she nodded her head at the Lord of Earth. "So be it, the moot agrees with your terms," she said, wishing that the Slave King would more willingly follow the will of the Pantheon.

Turning to face him, the Slave King cracked his knuckles and adjusted his cloak. "Discord, you have your guarantee of safety," he said in a tone that brooked no further games nor excuses. "Tell us of these people that seek after us, and why they desired us to fight."

"They... that is, those asking about us, you, me, everypony," Discord said, coughing once and pulling a croaking frog free from his throat. "The best way to describe them would be as silent watchers beyond the veil."

"Like an audience?" the Slave King asked, suddenly not liking where this special form of insanity was taking them.

"Yes, exactly!" Discord agreed with a snap of his claw, causing a red silk curtain to fall in front of a nearby wall. "Basically they have questions, and are expecting some answers."

"Then let them come and ask me themselves," the Slave King growled, glaring at the curtain hanging before them.

"I'm afraid it's too late for that," Discord whispered, as several spotlights overhead clicked on and showered the Pantheon with their brilliance.

The muffled sounds of an orchestra began playing from behind the curtain, and the Slave King looked down at himself and noticed his ragged clothes were missing and he was now dressed in some sort of black silken suit. Perched on his iron crown, above his head was a strange, tall glossy black hat. He felt a tightness around his neck, and reached out to feel what it was that was attempting to strangle him, and found a thin piece of black silk.

"Discord, what is this?" he demanded, totally confused by his change of attire.

"A bow tie, top hat, and tuxedo, Slave King," he replied, guiding the Lord of Earth to a waiting seat.

Deciding that this was too odd even for him, he sat down in the chair that Discord had provided. Looking to his left and right, he noted that each of his fellow deities were also draped in silken finery and sparkling glamor reminiscent of the clothes they had worn to his inauguration and wedding. He could only thank creation, that no curls were involved this time. The music outside the curtain grew louder as stringed instruments and brassy horns were playing an unfamiliar tune.

Turning to Discord, who he saw was also wearing a silk suit of his own, although in the loudest shade of orange one could possibly imagine, he raised a finger. "And what of the fighting, what possible reason could they have for us to pointlessly battle one another?" he asked, attempting to be heard over the music in the background.

"They called it a versus battle or some such," he answered, as a microphone appeared in his paw. "But I call it one of the perks of the job."

"Discord..." the Slave King grumbled, fidgeting in his strange and uncomfortable new clothes.

For his part, Discord just shushed the Slave King, as the curtain raised to thunderous applause. From his seat, nearly blinded by the bright lights above him, he saw the same faceless crowd that had haunted him from the darkened glass hanging on his wall. The multitude seemed to blend together in a dark mass of indistinguishable faces. He saw their eyes, and scowled. once this farce was over, he promised himself to hunt down each of these vermin so he could administer a proper chastisement and beating for their foolish arrogance in thinking they could ever command a god.

Sitting at a desk with a stack of blue cards at the ready, Discord turned to face the faceless audience. "Tonight's guests, need no introduction," he said, folding his paw and claw together. "From the heavens above to the earth below, these powerful few control every facet of Equestria and beyond. From day and night, to the prime elements and all the seasons, the effects of their unfathomable power is felt."

Pausing for a moment, he turned his head slightly towards the waiting deities. They were here at the very beginning, and even wrote the Law governing all, even over chaos," he continued, lifting his left eyebrow. The Chaos Studio is delighted to welcome the Equestrian Pantheon. Per the usual format, the audience has submitted questions beforeclaw. We ask the audience to please be quiet, so our guests can answer them."

Turning to his guests, he offered them a polite, genteel smile. "Before we start," he said, enunciating each word and syllable with exacting precision. "We want to remind our guests, all questions asked of you must be answered fully and truthfully. It's mandatory."

At this new unexpected and outrageous demand, each member of the Pantheon cast a dark look at their host for his audacity.

Sensing their discontent, Discord pursed his lips tightly together, before giving them a stern look. "Here at the Chaos Studio, we take our interviews very seriously," he said, his menacing tone suggesting malice should they refuse to cooperate. "So without further ado, we'll move to our first question."

"From 111segasonic To the Slave King: Slave King, have you ever encountered an emu or defeated on in glorious combat?"

"What?" the Slave King said, annoyed that he was being asked such trivial tripe and nonsense. Rising up from his seat, he glared at the sea of eyes and faces. "Which of you is this buffoon, 111segasonic?"

After a moment, a lone hand went up.

"Stand up," the Slave King demanded.

The poor soul who'd annoyed the Lord of Earth stood up, trembling beneath his withering gaze.

"No," was all the Slave King said. "Now sit down."

Discord looked towards the Slave King, and back to the audience. Mouthing, Oh my... before moving on to the next question in the pile.

"From nature of force to Princess Luna: Lady Luna, I have a most important question for you. What is your stance on "dark magic?"

Luna turned to Discord and shot him a dirty look before looking out at the audience. "Mr. nature of force, was it?" she said, trying to get her mind around such an odd name. "Shadow magic, also colloquially called dark magic by the ignorant and uneducated, tis a type of magic that at its core mayst be dangerous to use by the unwary and unprepared. Shadow magic tis neither good nor ill, but a tool like any other form of magic. We acknowledge it might be used for nefarious purposes by unscrupulous ponies, but poses no more danger than light magic might in the hooves of the self same villains."

Pulling another card from the pile, Discord read the next question.

"From 111segasonic to Lady Zephyr: Why have you not attempted to befriend a flock of emus? You would gain a very powerful ally if you succeed."

Lady Zephyr removed her talons from the dress draped over her shoulder and thought a moment. "111segasonic, I'm afraid I have no knowledge of these emus you speak of," she said, curious as to what matter of bird they might be, and what matter of aid they could render her in stamping out the slavery that was currently plaguing her people. Are they of the Zebrakan, and do these serve the Zebrakan Pantheon in any capacity? If you know them please advise their leader to send a missive to Autumn. I would be delighted to host their delegation to discuss opening up trade between our two peoples."

Nofeather said anything as a small cough broke the quiet, seeing that nofeather had a follow up question for her, the Maelstrom returned to preening her wings.

Picking up another card, Discord read it for a moment before giving it a look of disgust. "Surprise, another question from 111segasonic."

"From 111segasonic to the Slave King: If your domain is earth, do you have rule over the worms that live in it?"

Rolling his eyes at the pure absurdity of the question, the Slave King clenched his arcanum fist. "I rule over all above and beneath the earth, all is mine to do with as I please," he said with a disapproving harrumph that he was being subjected to such pointlessness. "So obviously the worms within the earth, and all those without like yourself, are under my jurisdiction."

Grabbing the cards, Discord lightly tapped them on the table in front of him before continuing.

"The next question is from Malefactory to the Slave King: How far are you willing to go to get what you want? What kind of man do you think yourself to be? Do you believe your own answers? Does, or would your wife believe them?"

"Finally a question of intellect," he said, pleased he was being spared from any further tomfoolery from idiots. "I believe my past speaks for itself. I'm willing to do whatever needs to be done, but hopefully not much blood will need to be spilt. I am no wayfarer, not anymore. What purpose would lying to myself achieve? As for my wife, she's free to believe whatever she chooses. Her approval or lack thereof on how I conduct my business, is of no concern to anyone but me; and Discord, no further questions, I believe I'm finished here."

He attempted to walk off the stage, when he found his feet stuck fast to the stage.

"I think not, The Chaos Studio has strict polices regarding guests leaving the set early," Discord said, throwing a card behind him, causing reality to break into pieces, before it shattered on the ground like glass.

To his bewilderment, the Slave King found himself back in his seat and chained to his chair.

Seeing that things might devolve into violence if Discord tried something similar with some of the Pantheon's more volatile members, she lit up her horn and summoned some help. From the back of the auditorium the doors opened, revealing an elderly minotaur with a grey coat and greying beard, wearing a conservative dark suit and holding a leather briefcase in his hand. As he approached the stage the orchestra began playing a tune

Stepping up on the stage, the minotaur tipped his hat to Celestia, and handed Discord a business card. "Hello, my name is Dairy Mason, attorney at law," he said, and I believe you're holding my clients against their wills.

Lifting up his talon, Discord was about to say something before thinking better of it.

"Celestia, is he another god?" the Slave King asked, wondering exactly who this newcomer was.

"No," she answered, accepting a piece of paper from the minotaur with her magic. "He's somepony we keep on retainer for situations like this."

"So how exactly is a lawyer going to help?" he asked, pulling on the chains binding him to the chair. "Especially when Discord seems to have all the world on a string."

"Although his power is vast, even Discord has rules he must follow," she explained, signing the document and floating them back into their lawyer's waiting hand.

"Celestia, how much exactly will his services set me back?" the Slave King asked, wondering what the going rate an hour was for defending them from Discord's mixed up insanity.

"Absolutely nothing, Slave King," she answered, much more calm and collected now that the minotaur was on the case. "Payment for his services have already been rendered."

"Yes, by the way of immortality," Dairy agreed, handing the Slave King a document to sign.

"What's this?" the Slave King asked, suspicious of the tiny illegible legalese written on the paper.

"A sworn affidavit stating you're being held against your will," he replied, handing him a quill and pointing towards the bottom of the page. "I require your signature here and here, before we can begin with the proceedings."

The Slave King left a sloppy signature in both places, before returning both the signed affidavit and quill back to his new lawyer. Dairy Mason for his part, inspected the signature, and satisfied it was sufficient, pulled out a metal stamp and notarized the document. Tapping the papers against his hand, he walked over to Discord and handed him the affidavit. Pulling out a pair of glasses, he began reading the document in full.

"Ah ha!" Discord shouted in triumph, handing the paperwork back to the minotaur. "They still have to answer all the questions, it says so right here."

"Yes, it does," Dairy Mason said, placing the documents inside his briefcase. "However my clients are entitled to legal council, and may decline to answer if it's within their rights."

"Very well, councilor," Discord huffed, unhappy that he'd been so easily out maneuvered and thwarted by a mere lawyer, and a nearly mortal one at that.

"Let's continue," the lawyer agreed, sitting beside Celestia as he prepared to take notes of the proceedings.

Unhappy that somepony had put a damper on his fun, Discord frowned as he reached for the next card.

"From ServantOfTheNight to Princess Celestia: Have you ever done anything of serious consequence that you aren't proud of? Also, why do you hate Discord so much? As a follow up - do you love to hate him, or hate that you love him?"

Hearing such a forward question Celestia felt her cheeks heating up. "I'd like to think as the current head of the Pantheon all my judgements have been just," she said, looking to the Slave King momentarily before looking away. "However, regarding the Slave King and his ascension, I allowed my worries for what he might do, push him away from harmony and onto a more destructive path. As for Discord, our relationship is a complex one. There's not time enough to go into great depths, but suffice it to say I do not hate him or anypony for that matter."

"But do you have the hots for me?" Discord interjected, winking as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her.

"I've answered the question to the extent I care to," she replied, choosing to ignore his clumsy flirting.

"Alright then, moving on," he answered, picking up another card.

"From warpd to Princess Luna: The sky is deep and it is dark. What lies beyond your flickering stars that brings light to a traveler? Perhaps they light the way for some other soul on a distant world. Also, do you have a home on the moon and if you do would you be willing to take the Slave King there?"

Pleased that somepony had taken an interest in her domain, Luna beamed a radiant smile to the audience. "Methinks, noble warpd, thou must possesseth a warrior poet's heart and soul," she said, allowing her flowing mane to frame her face with its beauty. "What layeth beyond our ocean of stars, we canst not say. But all who desireth and seeketh after succor and good cheer, wilt surely be welcome to sum at our table in fellowship and warm greetings. Of course as our husband, we extendeth an invitation to our beloved to enjoin us at our table to feast and make merriment in jubilation."

Having extended the invitation to her husband, the Lady of Night gave him a hopeful look, only to turn away when she saw he aloof response.

Grabbing another card, Discord pointed towards the Lawgiver.

"Another question from ServantOfTheNight to Lord Triton: How do you think the position of the Slave King would have changed if the Pantheon had not reacted so negatively to his ascension? Given that the Slave King was himself a former slave, does that give him a more legitimate stance on the issue of slavery than yourself? Lastly, is there any evil short of the return of the unmentionable one you can think of that could unite the Order of the Law Givers and the Order of Shadow in common cause?"

Pleased that somepony wished to debate the merits of the law, the Lord of Water offered the audience a polite bow. "Ascensions have always been matters of caution and uncertainty," he explained, pointing up with his fin. "We had no way of knowing if the Slave King meant us good or ill, and I don't believe that any amount of reasoning we offered, would've dissuaded him from the slaughter he had planned for those poor souls who resided in the Diamond Vale. Though the Slave King suffered greatly by the fins of others, it doesn't excuse the evil hes chosen to commit in his pursuit for prosperity for his domain. Lest we forget, all his great works, from the Neo Vale to the Lonely Road were built on the back of stolen lives and squandered youth, broken hearts and the forgotten tears of unfortunate victims. So no it doesn't. He might remember the bite of the whip, but has forgotten the yearning to be free."

Looking to the Slave King, he reached out his fin. "Let it be known to all, should the Slave King desire it," he said with a righteous and benevolent heart. "He need only stay the whips and break the chains, repent, and pursue slavery no more; and I would gladly call him brother and walk at his side in peace and friendship. It's my hope and my desire, that one day the Slave King will throw off the chains and willingly walk the path of harmony."

"Thank you for your long winded response, Lawgiver," Discord said, reaching for the next question on the pile.

"Next we have darkslare to Princess Celestia: What is the funniest thing you have ever seen?"

"Well, back in the first age of ponies I saw Discord and..." she began, before being interrupted by their host.

"I think we don't need to answer that question, Celestia," he said, reaching for another card.

"I really don't mind telling the story," she started, before being interrupted once more.

"No, that really alright, it's a boring story anyway, nopony wants to hear about it," he said, offering her a flinty look.

"Anyways, moving on, Moongaze14 asks Lord Ouroboros: Have you ever married or mated with either Celestia, Luna, Zephyr, Suzaku, or Minoa? "

"That's it?" he asked, slightly offended by the question. "I've struck the down world tree in my anger, slain gods by the score, claimed the Slave King's greatest treasure for my own, and they only want to know how many notches I have etched upon my hoard wall... Very well, mortal, I'll sate your unseemly appetite for salacious filth and disreputable gossip, and I'll tell you which of them I've bedded. Celestia snores in her sleep; Luna's too headstrong a dragoness for her own good, she never attended to her wifely duties as often as she should've; Zephyr was always a feisty one, but like Luna prone to butting heads; Suzaku was fun while it lasted, but she never knew when to let go; and Minoa enjoyed being on top far to much for my liking. Each of them have had the privilege and pleasure of sharing my hoard, but the Slave King is welcome to the lot of them. I've had my fill of them for now."

Seeing the flinty looks the goddesses of the Pantheon were giving the Fire Tyrant, made Discord slightly titter. "It appears, Ouroboros, that it will be a good long while more, before you'll be sharing it with anypony now!" he said with a slight chuckle.

"Bah," he replied, leveling his lone eye at Discord. "They're dragonesses, they've no clue what they really want."

"Whoa ho, everypony, moving on then..." Discord said, grabbing another blue card from the pile.

"ServantOfTheNight asks Lady Suzaku: What is it about the Slave King that won't make you let go? Surely there are other, less callous men who could attract your attention, men who actually want you around? Have you considered maybe women are your speed?"

Hearing the question inquiring about her feeling towards the Slave King, Suzaku bright red plumage grew even redder. "The Slave King's a unique feather, unlike anyfeather else I've ever known," she said, looking longingly at her former love. "Love, it's so odd that way. What might make somefeather else's heart go all aflutter, might do nothing for you. Where you might see a cold unfeeling feather, I see somefeather hurting, desperately needing to be loved. I love him greatly, and probably always will."

Hearing her words, the Slave King looked away from her, clearly uncomfortable with her revelation.

"But as far as my willingness to share my nest with the fairer sex..."she said, giving Lady Zephyr and Princess Luna a flirty smile. "I'll leave that to your apparently oversexed imagination."

"Meow," Discord quipped, throwing the card behind him and making it explode into a shower of plushie cats and confetti.

"Next, we have a question from Triv_ to Princess Luna: After your husband recovers his strength do you think he'll continue looking to you for aid (when and if he admits he needs it)? Also on a different note, Have you though about what children with you husband would look like? What would you call them?"

Still blushing from Suzaku's innuendo, Luna tried her best to hide her flushed face from everypony else. "Our husband, thanks to Discord's wedding gift, hast fully recovered," she said, looking to her husband and offering him small smile. Although a proud stallion, we knoweth he valueth wisdom no matter its provenience. As for our future foals, we knoweth not what they shalt be. We only knoweth that we shalt loveth them with all the tenderness of our heart. Tis our desire and hope, mine husband wilt feeleth the selfsame within his bosom towards fatherhood, once he hath held our foal to his breast. As for our first foal's name, we wouldst think Morning Star might be best. For like brightness of the morning star, so to does mine love burn for mine beloved."

"Do you wish to respond to your wife's comment Slave King?" Discord asked, stretching out his paw to the Lord of Earth in invitation.

"The question wasn't addressed to him, Discord," Dairy Mason said, looking at how uncomfortable his client had become. "You're under no obligation to answer if you don't wish."

"I have nothing to say," the Slave King said, looking away from his wife and the audience.

"In that case, we're moving on, everypony," Discord announced, taking the next card and lightly tapping it on the table in front of him.

"From Moongaze14 to Lord Triton: What's the Suzaku special that you were offered when you pretended to be one of your subjects? Also, why do you and your female knights abstain from carnal relationships while the male knights visit the brothel once they achieve the majority of age?"

The Lord of Water gave the audience an uncomfortable look. "First I want everypony here to know, I'm not one given to frequenting brothels," he said, puling out a finkerchief from his suit's front pocket to wipe his brow. "The Suzaku special if I remember correctly, is a degeneracy consisting of seven mares of your choosing, usually from different tribes, to attend to a series of obscene acts of lewdness that's been known to last a day or more. It costs a ransom, and should, in my personal opinion, not be sought after by anypony. Such acts of base carnality, are beyond the pale, they leaden the mind and sicken the spirit."

"Choosing to be virtuous and chaste, is right and proper. As their leader, it's left to me to be the exemplar. To lead the way and light the path. How can I ask my people, to be good and pure, if such is beyond my own actions. The good mares who've chosen to follow in my wake, and chosen chastity over licentiousness, are my joy. Once they've chosen a stallion worthy of their affections, its my delight to see them joined to their new spouses. As for my knights seeking after pleasures of the flesh, I've found forbidding it an exercise in futility. I would of course wish everypony would abstain in seeking after carnality, in favor of virtue. But I recognize not all can be as virtuous as I. So I only ask they be temperate, and should accidents arise to do the honorable thing by the mare."

Saying nothing, Discord pulled the next card from pile.

"Alright the next question is from Rune Dancer to the Slave King: To the great lord, the Slave King, to what do you attribute the dubious honor of being the most trying of matters in thine long lived life? And dost thou remember thy homeland fondly?"

Rolling his eyes at the flowery prose of the question, the Slave King mulled the question over in his mind. "You needn't try sucking up to me with the fancy words, Rune Dancer, I get enough of that from my unceasing stream of weekly petitioners," he said, straightening his suit. "As for the question, I'm not sure I understand it. Are you asking me what the most annoying thing in life is, or saying that I'm the most aggravating thing in someone else's? As for your other question, not really. I mean I remember some things, but others are a bit of a blur. Sometimes I can recall inconsequential details about my former life, and other times nothing. It really just depends."

Pulling another card from the dwindling pile, Discord read its contents before continuing.

"This question is from Moongaze14 to both Princess Celestia and Princess Luna: I have a question for you. How were the pony tribes and the Zebras were created? Also, have any of you taken a mortal lover before? Along with a followup question; did you have any mortal or immortal lovers that are known in legend? Also, how come the two of you are the only deities that have siblings?"

Celestia looked to her sister, and with Luna's approving nod moved to speak. "I'll answer the first question, in the beginning we were alone. It was a lonely existence, but one day Discord shared with us a secret, the Song of Creation. With it, my sister and I brought forth our ponies into the world. Their creation brought us such joy, that we felt moved to share it with the others. I can't speak for my sister, but I love all my ponies, and those who've chosen to love me in turn, I happily took under my wing."

Wishing to answer the rest, Luna addressed the audience. "We believeth that disreputable cur, Lord Ouroboros, hast already answered thy rude inquiry if either of us hast taken a lover. Shouldst thou inquire of our kin on the Pantheon, we art sure thou wouldst hear similar tales told of their former paramours. As to being the only sisters on the Pantheon, that is a falsehood. Each of us here art either brother or sister to the other. We art an extended and tumultuous clan to be sure, but still family none the less."

"Does that mean I'm still invited to the family reunion, Luna?" Discord asked, with a slight chortle.

"Yea, thou deceitful liar," she agreed, cocking her brow. "Thou shalt provide a roost for the birds."

"Yeesh," Discord murmured, throwing the card to the side.

"Okay, next question is from darkslare to myself: Is their any place you would rather be as a statue, instead of Londwhinium's gardens?"

"An eggcellent question if I don't say so myself," Discord chuckled, holding up an oversized egg in his paw, which promptly cracked open, allowing a miniscule Discord to pop out onto the stage. "And wouldn't you know it everypony... I did! So here's the answer my friends, no. Sure a change of scenery might be nice from time to time, but eventually it would turn to the same predictable boredom. But if I were to be moved from Londwhinium, I couldn't keep my eye on my favorite pony princess now could I?"

"I'm your favorite, Discord?" Celestia asked, surprised and slightly blushing at his compliment.

"No, of course not, Celestia," Discord answered, snapping his talons and making a fluffy pink dress, tiara, and scepter appear on him. "I'm my favorite pony princess."

With a snap of his talon, the other miniscule Discord and all the princessly trappings he was wearing disappeared into the aether.

Picking up several cards from the pile, he let out a low whistle. "Alright, everypony, were getting a threefer, it looks like the next several questions are from Moongaze14, for both Lady Suzaku and Lady Zephyr."

"To Suzaku, are there deities or mortals that you bedded in particular that you have a soft spot for? Also, have you ever "loved" a female before, like Zephyr? Finally, how much do you enjoy the affective nature of Rey? To Lady Zephyr, why did you create that ritual about male griffins having to mate with you in order to marry outside the clan? Is it to keep the genes within the clan or was it a test of character to see if they would rather be loyal to their mate? And lastly, to Zephyr and Suzaku, was the childbirth of your children difficult?"

Tittering at the question, Suzaku used her wing to cover her beak. "Zephy, love, I think some mortals are rather preoccupied with our love lives, don't you think?" she asked, with a playful grin.

"Zuzu, they're almost as bad as the griffins back at the Golden Eyrie," she said, resigning herself to answering such intimate questions. "Dairy, can we skip this one?"

The attorney looked up from the newspaper he was reading and shook his head. "Sorry, Lady Zephyr, questions regarding personal relationships are fair game," he said, licking his finger and turning to the next page.

"Damn, Alright then, fine," she sighed in defeat, wondering where these feathers were getting their gossip from.

"To answer your question, you naughty mortal you," Suzaku said, wearing a cheeky grin. "I think my favorite playmate of all time would have to be my dear friend Zephy. And I believe that answers your other question, love. Dairy, I'm going to have to remain silent regarding the rest."

"Yes, you're fine not answering it," the minotaur agreed.

Placing her beak in her talon, Zephyr groaned. "I guess you're referring to the rite of Prima Noctis," she said, blushing slightly. "Ages ago I was rather more wild then I am now. Under the pretense of wishing to keep my griffin clans strong, I'm afraid I took advantage of my position to enjoy the virility of my people. Of course, the rite is a privilege also granted to the head of each city and village. But you're right in thinking its used as a test of their love."

"Dawson wasn't too difficult to carry," she said, remembering the pregnancy of her son. "Zuzu, did Aria and others give you any trouble?"

"Oh, no," Suzaku said, beaming at the memory. "My girls were nothing but a joy to carry. My only regret is we didn't have more."

Hearing her desire, the Slave King grunted in disapproval.

"Oh, don't be like that, my love," she teased, blowing the Lord of Earth a kiss. "Perhaps next time we can try for a son, with Luna's permission of course."

"Wow, it's getting hot in here," Discord said, as his bow tie spun and steam shot out from his ears. "Lets move to the next question, everypony."

"From glycose to the Slave King: If humanity finally becomes aware of Equestria in full extent, not just of the occasional straggler getting lost in Equestria, and finally arrives, what side will you pick? A Human conquistador? A Human gone Native, and rebelling? A diplomat, or a researcher, or even just a civilian, trying to subdue military escalation as both sides seize each other up?

"Discord... just who exactly are asking these questions?" the Slave King asked, wondering how and why they possessed such knowledge.

"Like I already said, them," he replied, waiting for the Slave King to answer.

"Very well, should humanity or wayfarers as they are known here, arrive en masse," he said, choosing his words carefully. "It would be most likely an invasion. They might approach us with arms wide open, but you can be sure at least one of their number will have a hidden knife at the ready to try stabbing us in the back, should things not go their way. The others will have to make their choice, as for myself, I decline to comment any further."

"You're within your rights to do so, Slave King," Dairy Mason agreed.

"Up next, we have a question from Rune Dancer to Princess Luna: If there is one wish you could make that would come true, what would it be and how much are you willing to give."

After thinking for a moment, Luna's face brightened. "Our one great heartfelt desire, would be to convince our husband the purity of our intentions and the longing of our heart for him," she said, looking to the Slave King with sorrow in her eyes. "But couldst we only convince him that we art faithful and true, we wouldst dedicate all our nights to his happiness forevermore."

Saying nothing at her words, the Slave King tightly gripped his knee, before looking away.

Grabbing another blue card, Discord flicked it back and forth against his paw, before reading it.

"From KnightofZaku to Celestia: Do you have any concerns that some heavy consequences may happen from having your sister marry the Slave King?"

Celestia looked at the sullen and silent Slave King, and then to her dewy eyed sister. "I can only hope the both of them find happiness together," she said, placing her wing protectively around her younger sister's shoulder. "In time, I know he will finally become whole again. Beyond that joyous occasion, I'm unsure what else of consequence might occur."

"Next we have warpd to the Slave King: How much does this world's inhabitants (gods included) know about the world that you and other travelers hail from? Humans have been mentioned a few times, but it has been fleeting information surrounded with mystery. Speaking of home, would you go back if you could? Not as a permanent stay as you have so too much that ties you here, but just to see the home world once more. Who knows, perhaps Earth hides deities of their own that have been hiding beyond the veil of human eyes."

"Discord, that's another odd question I think," the Slave King said, wishing this interrogation would end. "Only one other knows of whence I came. The Winding One, and although he's been silent on the matter, I'm fairly certain he's to blame for my coming here. "Yes, wayfarers have found themselves in Equestria from time to time. I've made a point of collecting them before they come to harm. My home is here now, but would I go back if I could. Hmm... Probably not, I've changed too much. I'm afraid I'm far too alien, too foreign to find welcome in that homeland. Equestria and that place weren't meant to mix. I know not if gods are watching over them, but if there are, may they be benevolent ones."

"Friend, I never realized you were so sentimental," Discord said, reaching for the next card.

"Discord, you know nothing," he rumbled, folding his arms in front of him.

"Our next question is from ServantOfTheNight to Lord Ouroboros, and he asks: So far it seems like the only dragons around have been colored dragons - what about metallic dragons, if they exist what do you think of them and if not why not make them? Also, do you think pony culture can change the nature of dragons raised among them? And why do you think the Slave King would ask for such a demand?"

The Fire Tyrant derisively snorted at the question. "What foolishness, of course their scales are colored," Lord Ouroboros spat, annoyed at being asked something so obvious. "Dragons with metal scales would have color as well, but none of my children that I know of possess them. Why, are you aware of some? If so, send them to me, that I might judge their worthiness to be called dragons. The great calamity which has fallen my people, courtesy of that foul man-thing, has devastated the great dragon clans. Instead of raising proper dragons. Celestia has seen fit to reduce their status to nothing more then pets. They know nothing of their heritage, or their noble lineage. In the end, she raises not proud dragons, but weak mewling ponies wearing the skin of wurms. My people's future has been impoverished by his cruelty, and the world is worse off for it. As for his reasons, I know not, neither do I care. But one day, he will suffer for it as greatly I have, I so swear it."

"Thank you for your answer, Lord Ouroboros," Discord said, tugging on his collar and reaching for another card.

"Looks like I have another question, from Moongaze14; What crimes did the god from Tartarus committed to be sent to the Pit?"

"Oh you mean, Tiroc?" he said, before the censors could bleep him out. "Old Tir... er, I mean the unmentionable one, was being a regular brute, bully, and an all around incorrigible scoundrel."

"Unlike yourself, Discord?" Celestia said, pointed out that he fit that description to a tee.

"Celestia, I'll have you know my incorrigibleness is a part of my charm," he smugly said, slicking back his mane. "But as for the unmentionable one, his brutish ways were getting in the way of my plans for Equestria. Hence I had to remove him from the picture. Of course I couldn't just off him. My poor constitution could never handle violence, and to bloody my talon and paw in such a manner. Heaven forbid. So I hatched upon a clever scheme to rid us of his overly red posterior for all time, and there you have it. "Bleep is trapped in Tartarus, and I am not."

"Mr. Discord," Dairy Mason said. "I'll remind you that once your little game is up, it's back to the Londwhinium gardens for you.

"Well relative freedom in my case," Discord replied, throwing the card behind him and reaching for another. "But anything is better than Tartarus."

"Let's see, looks like our next question is from darkslare to Princess Luna: Are their any common themes to the dreams of the mortals of the world?"

"Verily," Luna agreed, eager to share her interests. "Many mortals dreameth of the hidden things they desire. Be it riches, love, or renown. Many seek after what they suppose maketh them the happiest. So they dream of fair beauty in their hooves, fame and adulation, or wealth without measure. like most indolent and idle desires, their dreams are without depth and are quite shallow. But ever so often, a mortal dreameth of pure things of great import and substance, such art my favorite, and blessed be are those who dreameth them."

"So than, Luna, what do you dream about?" Discord asked.

"Our dreams, like thine, are each our own," she said, chastising him for seeking after things he had no business knowing. "None have a right to intrude upon them, least of all thee, wicked deceiver."

Looking at the dwindling stack of blue cards, Discord grabbed the next question.

"From Moongaze14 to the Slave King, and no surprise what they're asking about; Slave King, I have a question for you. Is it weird for you that Sapphire wants to mate with Ignatius despite being siblings? Other than Zephyr and Suzaku, do you have any particular lover that you remember ever since your ascension as the Slave King?"

"Discord, why are all these questions mainly asking about sex?" the Slave King asked, as the rest of the Pantheon murmured together their displeasure at being asked such intimate questions in agreement.

"Hey, everypony," Discord argued, throwing up his paw and claw in surrender. "I'm only reading the questions that were submitted. It's not my fault that everypony seems more interested in who's seeing who, rather then the current trade war going on between the Zebrakan and Marelantis, or the recently uncovered bribery scandal involving the Shadehoof Triumvirate governing council."

"What!" the Slave King nearly shouted, furious he was just hearing about the scandal here, and by Discord of all people.

"Oh don't worry about it, Slave King, nopony else knows either," Discord cheerfully said, puling on his silk coat. "But stop stalling, time to answer the question."

"Regarding the question, no, it's not," the Slave King said, giving Discord a sour look. "With but three dragon-halfs and over thirty dragonesses, there's little room for what might be considered traditional morality. What they choose to do together is between them, and them alone. As for women I've shared my bed with, years ago, there was a gentle bitch who seemed quite taken with me. Over the course of a decade, she'd somehow collected nearly a hundred tokens granting her favors from me. She used them all, requesting a place in my bed."

"We certainly hopeth, husband," Luna icily said, giving the Slave King a withering look. "That thou shall not engage thy subjects in such carnality in the future,"

"Should they bare a token, and make the request, I cannot deny them," he answered her. "In the South, that is the law."

Hoping to break up their squabble, Discord reached over and picked up another card.

"This next question is from ServantOfTheNight to Princess Luna: Why did you want to be in a relationship with the Slave King, knowing how abrasive and cold he could be? That said, would you care if Celestia had wanted to share him with you?"

Luna bit her lip as she looked to the Slave King. "In deed, dearest husband, why shouldst we?" she asked, still feeling miffed at his refusal to deny his subjects further access to his bedchambers. "However, beloved, though thou might be like a diamond in the rough, we see within thy soul the brilliance that lies beneath. We need be but patient, and er long, our long suffering shalt one day be reward. As for thy other rude inquiry, our sister knoweth better then to broach such. Celestia respects our union, and wouldst do nothing to ever endanger or encroach upon it."

"Thank you, Luna," Discord said, pulling two cards from the pile.

"Our next two questions are nearly identical; from KnightofZaku and Triv_ to Lady Suzaku: Are you terrified of what may happen to you or your kingdom when the Slave King discovers what you've done? Do you think the Slave King will be willing to listen to you if he ever finds out about you know what?"

Hearing the questions, Suzaku looked a little unsettled as she peered at the Slave King, to see his reaction. "I'm afraid I must decline to speak, and refer to council," she said, nervously pulling on her feathers.

After thinking for a moment Dairy Mason nodded in agreement. "Seeing as the questions being asked are rather sensitive, you may pass," he said, writing something down on a legal pad.

"Sorry, but seeing her reluctance," Discord said, reaching for another card. "I'll let you draw your own conclusions.

"It appears the next question is from Moongaze14 to the Slave King: How many different types of beast folk exist in Equestria and with whom did you sire each tribe?"

Upon hearing the question he scowled. "I have no children, none, not anymore," the Slave King said, adamantly refusing to admit the truth. "But regarding the beast folk tribes, there are but four. The dragonhalfs, who sprung up from the Earth and Fire Domain border; the kolbolds, who descended from the unions between wayfarers and the diamond dog bitches who lusted after them; the feathered folk, the fair daughters of Lady Suzaku and must have been many prolific pairings with her wayfarer lovers; Dawson the griffinhalf, son of Lady Zephyr and her unknown wayfarer consort."

"Really, Slave King, you're still peddling that tripe," Discord deadpanned, completely unconvinced by his words. When the Slave King refused to answer, he grabbed another two cards from the dwindling pile. "Alright then, moving on, our next questions are from Rune Dancer and Moongaze14 to Melody the Yellow, of all ponies!"

"Discord, forcing us to play is one thing, but involving mortals in your tomfoolery isn't right," the Slave King said, objecting that his servant, Melody the Yellow would be forced to dance on the trickster's string for his amusement.

"Then what if she agrees?" Discord asked, looking towards Dairy Mason. "Would it be alright then?"

"I'll allow it," Dairy said, before pointing at him. "But, Discord, if she refuses, it's back she goes."

"Of course, of course, I'm not a monster after all," he agreed. With a snap of his finger, Melody the Yellow, appeared on the stage with a small flash and a bit of pink smoke.

"Wha... where am I?" she asked, confused for a moment, before seeing her mother, Luna, and the Slave King behind her. "Mother, King Daddy!"

Without another word, she rushed to both Lady Suzaku and Luna, giving them both a heartfelt embrace.

"Mother, where am I, and why are you dressed like this?" she asked, examining the beautiful dresses they each wore.

"Fear not, daughter," Luna said, returning her embrace. "Thy mother and we art under Discord's hold until he hast exhausted all his fun with us. We art not in any risk of bodily harm nor grave peril. The only danger we face tis bruised egos and embarrassment."

"Yes, Melody," Suzaku agreed, giving her daughter an affectionate peck on the cheek. "Discord wants to ask you some questions, you're free to refuse. If you do you'll be returned from where he whisked you away."

"Okay, I'm game, Discord," Melody said, looking down regretfully at her own rather plain traveling clothes. "But I'll need a wardrobe change."

"Okay, fine," he said, snapping his claws, and transforming her sturdy clothes into an elegant evening gown. Wolf whistling appreciatively at her, he clapped a few times, before inviting her to sit down in a chair he'd made appear from the aether.

"Your first question, Melody, is from Rune Dancer: What is your favorite tale to tell or song to sing for your lord?"

Thinking for a moment, Melody withdrew her lute from her back and began strumming a few notes and opened her mouth to sing.

Did I ever tell you, I love you?

Over hill and dale, or sailing across the sea.

Beneath the golden sun, as if warms the day.

Basking in the moon's silver light, as it guards the night.

Did I ever tell you, I love you?

Did I ever tell you, I love you?

Rising to meet the day, or drifting off to sleep.

Breaking bread to end the fast, enjoying it as if it might be the last

Resting beneath the golden oak, or hiding from the rain.

Did I ever tell you I love you?

Did I ever tell you I love you?

In grandest of victories, or bitterest of defeats.

Leaning against you, and you against me.

As the day ends, and shadow nears.

Did I ever tell you I love you?

For I do, I love you.

"Thank you," she said, with a slight bow as she put away her lute.

Once the song had ended, Discord whistled and loudly clapped his talon and paw together. "Bravo!" he cheered. "Such talent, Melody."

"Oh, thank you," she said, beaming at his praise.

"Alright, Melody, here's the next question. It's from Moongaze14 to you: Have you ever had a lover before?"

"Oh, wow," she said, fanning herself. "That was awfully direct."

"That question was tame, compared to some of the other questions they asked us," Suzaku said, reassuring her daughter.

"Okay, if they absolutely must know," Melody tittered with embarrassment. "Not yet, but one day I hope! Why do you ask Moongaze14, wondering if I'm single so you can woo me yourself?"

"Sorry, Melody," Discord said, reaching for the next card. "They can look but not touch."

"Oh, pooh," she said, sorry that she couldn't meet her suitor.

"But here's another question for you from KnightofZaku, and he wants to know: What would be the first thing you'd ask for when your father finally acknowledges you?"

When she heard the question, she went quiet. "I... I don't know," she murmured, wiping her reddening eyes with a handkerchief. "Only to let him know, that I never gave up hoping that one day he would love me as much as I love him."

"Oh, how touching and moving," Discord cried, as buckets of water fell onto the stage from his yellow eyes. After a moment, he cut the waterworks as he pulled another question from the pile.

"Our next question is for the Slave King from Triv_: Do you think you will ever acknowledge your children as...well, yours? Do you want to? What's your opinion on Sombra's recent actions?"

Looking at Lady Suzaku and then Melody, the Slave King shook as he cast his eyes to his feet. "I wish to pass," he softly said, rubbing his hands lightly together.

"Sorry, Slave King," Dairy Mason apologized. "You've got to answer the question."

Releasing a heavy sigh, the Slave King nodded in acquiescence. "I have no children," he replied, refusing to look at Melody as she fought back her tears. "If I had any, I... I... might tell them, I loved them."

Closing his eyes, and trying his best to recompose himself, he focused on the second half of the question. "Sombra knows the price should he betray me or abuse the crystal ponies," he said, feeling his anger rise at the thought of being betrayed by Second's unicorn lackey. But he was always a responsible soldier, so I'm sure his administration over the crystal dominion is going smoothly."

"And as a follow up to the last question," Discord said, giving him a chance to collect his thoughts. "Lord Despair asks: You are a former slave yourself, why do you allow others to fall under it's chains? Will you will ever acknowledge your children as...well, yours? Lastly if '"a god'' from the human world pops up would you welcome him/her in open arm(s) or let them suffer the Earth's wrath?"

"I fail to see how one has to do with the other," he replied, pulling on his greying beard. "Why should I be under any greater scrutiny then any other? They cry how can you do such an injustice, but never have any words for the others who profit from the trade. I ask you this, where is the censure and repudiation for their sins, for their misdeeds? I believe I've already answered regarding any of my supposed children. As for your last point, should a foreign god come creeping into my territory, I would politely show them the door. I have no need of foreign religions poisoning the minds of my subjects."

"Alrighty then, it looks like the next question is for little ole moi," Discord said, reading from the next card.

From ServantOfTheNight to Discord: What is it about ponies that you love enough to accept imprisonment? As an aside, have you ever tried to romance Celestia?"

"What's not to love about ponies?" he said, holding up a plushie pony in his paw. "See how adorable they are? Their pettable manes, their bright, wonder filled eyes, their cute scrunchable snouts, soft furry bellies constantly in search of tum tum rubs. If spending a bit of time in a timeout is price for enjoying their company, then I say it's a price well paid. Besides they have to catch me before they can send me away again. As for Celestia, well that boat's long since sailed, hit a reef, caught fire, and sunk to the bottom of the ocean. In case you didn't know, she's not that fond of me."

Pulling one of the last few cards, he placed it down in front of him. "Our next question is another from ServantOfTheNight to the Slave King: Why did you never try to populate your demesne with humans, assuming you had the power to do so? Also, why import human technology to this realm but not human philosophy? Are there no great human philosophers you admire, or would want to hold up as examples of your people's worthiness above the other races?"

Mouthing why me to himself, the Slave King leaned back in his seat. "Adding an additional population of anyone, let alone wayfarers, has never been an objective of mine, the ones I own, are population enough to rule over," he said, tapping his metal finger against his leg. "Why introduce technology and not philosophy you ask? For much the same reason why I desire the tools and not the people. I believe its been said, that there are more things in heaven and earth, ServantOfTheNight, then has been dreamt in their numerous philosophies. If it's wise and worthwhile, I'm sure somebody, somewhere will eventually say it. If not, its no small loss. Instead of seeking answers from others, I think my people will profit more from discovering it for themselves."

"I'm sure Lord Raiden would disagree with you, Slave King," Discord said, reaching for one of the few remaining cards left.

"Then the esteemed sage is free to go poking about the ley lines if he's so inclined," the Slave King retorted, thoroughly annoyed when he thought of the infuriating kirin.

"Our next question is from Moongaze14 to Princess Celestia," Discord said, pointing towards her. "Unsurprisingly, he's asking about you know what."

"To Celestia: What happened during the First, Second, Third, and Fourth ages of Equestria? Also, was there any reason as to why the gods were so amorous during the first age? Finally, what happened to the heroes that confronted the Slave King?"

"Fourth age?" she asked, wondering why he thought she might foreknowledge of things to come. "I'm sorry, I'm no seer or astrologer, so if you wish to know portents of the future, i can only suggest you inquire about them from Lord Raiden. As for the other earlier ages, I'm happy to explain. In the first age, creation and the gods came to be. It was a time of chaos and violence, where the strong preyed upon the weak, and murder was more often then not the solution to all problems. In the first age came the Law, and with it an end to the chaos.:

"In the second age we supposed we had achieved a golden age of prosperity, but we were wrong. Greed and wickedness overran Equestria. Wars and the rumors of wars were all anypony could think of, and it wasn't until the Slave King joined our number, that a true lasting peace came to be. And for the peace he helped us forged, I'll be forever grateful to him. The current age, the third, notwithstanding the odd skirmish has been a relatively one. This long lasting peace has allowed everypony to enjoy prosperity, that I hope will last into the foreseeable future."

"The reasons for our behavior during the first age I can only blame on the foibles of youth," she continued. "We were young and reckless. We cared more for satisfying our selfish urges and monstrous appetites, then caring for what others desired. But I like to think we've changed over the years to the better, for the most part. As for Clover and his friends, I'm happy to say they all lived long and happy lives. Clover was the Londwhinium regent for many years, his contributions cannot be understated. Shanks stood steadfastly alongside his friend until the day he passed. Many of descendants currently live happy and prosperous lives in Equestria mining for gems to sell in the Londwhinium markets."

"Shaw and Showboat married and had a wonderful family of hippogriffs. In fact," Celestia said, recounting the tale. "Their bloodline is still strong, and most of their descendents live in the city of Cloudsdale. True to his word, after his first renewal, the Slave King rose a large island in the Western Sea. Carrying the body of his beloved master, Sir Stouthorn, to be buried there, Seafoam returned to Marelantis, ensuring everypony heard the story of how Sir le Boeuf Stouthorn, the chivalrous, of the Most Illustrious Order of Triton the Lawgiver, defeated Lord Ouroboros in single combat and stopped the Slave King from enacting his revenge. In the end, those two became the most celebrated knights of the Lawgiver to ever give the oath. But I'm sure Lord Triton could tell their tale much better than I."

"No, Celestia," the Lawgiver said, wiping his eyes with his fin. "Your story was magnificent, my lady, a true masterpiece."

"Why thank you, Lord Triton," she said, blushing slightly.

"Next question is from glycose to the fiery hearten clone of Slave King... who?" Discord asked, slowly scratching his head in confusion.

"Fiery hearten clone?" the Slave King asked, the flames in his eyes slowly increasing in intensity. "Discord, who is that?"

"Uh, forget I said anything..." he nervoudly said, moving to get up out of his seat.

Unsuccessful in his attempts in breaking the chains binding him to his chair, the Slave King tried pulling his seat free from the floor. "Read the question to me, now," he said in a low murderous growl.

"Heh, heh heh. Now, Slave King, let's not be too hasty here," Discord weakly said, laughing nervously while looking at the bolts holding the chair fast to the stage, and thus the Slave King at bay. "Okay, okay, fine. Here it is: Why pick the domain of earth to right the wrongs of world? Why not corral support for your cause in neighboring provinces? Why take on the behemoth by yourself?"

"That sounds like the drivel an abolitionist rabble-rouser might say," he said, angry that like the earlier news of scandal in Shadehoof, he was just now learning of this fool upstarts desire to upset things in the South. "Clone, your days are numbered..."

Hearing the dark oath he uttered against her darling Elrey, sent a shiver through Suzaku's tail feathers. She was determined that she wouldn't rest until he was hidden away, ensconced in her Summer Palace, where the Slave King couldn't reach him.

Hoping to break the tension, Discord reached for one of the few remaining cards. Reading it, he shook his head at its inappropriate contents. "The next question is for Jormungandr, but seeing as he's not here, I'll leave it up to the Pantheon to answer."

"From ServantOfTheNight to the Winding One: Is Princest wincest?"

"What! Tis nothing but vile scandal and obscene gossip. How dare they insinuate we wouldst lay with each other like dumb beasts of the field," Luna shouted in outrage, furious these peasants had the audacity to make jest of such base and salacious things between she and her sister. "This wilt not stand! Do you hear us, ServantOfTheNight. We shalt avenge ourselves upon thee and thy cohorts for possessing such a vile depraved tongue, that hast slandered us so!

"Technically, Luna, it's libel not slander," Discord pointed out, tossing the card behind him to explode into a shower of pink smoke and rubber ducks.

"Oh!" she huffed in anger, stomping her hoof in frustration at suffering such indignities from a faceless mob.

"Alright, everypony," Discord said, holding up the last remaining card. "This is the final question of the evening!"

"This question is from warpd and he's asking this of everypony here: Will there come a time, when great powers like yourselves are not needed in this world? When mortals break through the glass ceiling and expand to the heavens. Travel boldly where no being has gone before.

"I think I'll go first," he said, flinging the card out into the audience. "My answer is no. The very idea of chaos not existing, why it makes my stomach turn. So if I have to choose between the mortals leaving Equestria behind for greener pastures, or staying behind to keep me company, I'll do what i can to throw a spanner into the works. After all, a world without Discord is one that not worth living in. With that being my answer, I'll turn the question over to Celestia to answer next."

Princess Celestia shook her head at the draconequus's selfishness. "Although it might hurt at first, nothing would please me more knowing that should something happen to me, my little ponies will able to take care of themselves," she said, wearing a benevolent smile. "Eventually all foals must leave the safety of home in search of their own destinies, I only hope that when that time comes for us, my ponies will allow me to walk beside them on their journey into the unknown."

"Thank you, Celestia. Luna, it's your turn now," Discord said, rhythmically thrumming his talons on the desk.

"Ah, yes, typical mortal arrogance," she said, still slightly miffed at the prior insult she'd suffered through. "We disagree with our sister. If we dost not move the heavens, then who wilt. Always seeking to run before thou canst walk, thou seeth thyself as our equals, yet lack our wisdom. And shouldst thou by some miracle of invention steal away from us, we knowest before er long, without a strong hoof to guide thee, thou wilt seeketh out a yoke of iron and willingly place it upon thy own necks to the detriment and great sorrow of thee and thine future line. So we say unto thee, mortal, stay beneath our wing and be free, or wander off into the unknown and become lost in bondage."

"Discord two, Celestia one," Discord said, drawing a floating tic mark in the air. "Alright, Lord Ouroboros, it's your turn next."

"Ungrateful, greedy, mortal fool," the Lord of Fire said with a slight chuckle. "You suppose because you know a little magic or tinker with your clever little trinkets, that you're prepared to face the cold and dark unknown. Go ahead and leave, when you fail, I'll be standing over the wreckage gloating and telling your far more worthy successors tales of your arrogant hubris."

"Lady Zephyr, what's your answer?" Discord asked, adding a mark to Celestia's tally.

"I'd say yes," she said, slightly outstretching her wings. "But only because you followed in my wake. If there's an untouched stretch of sky I plan to be the first one testing it with my wings. But fear not, little chick, once you're ready to leave the nest, I'll be flying there right alongside you."

"I think that's three for me, Discord," Celestia said with a slight smile.

"It's not over quite yet," he replied, adding another tally to her side. "Lord Triton, your up."

"A world without the law would be complete anarchy," he said, shaking his head lightly. "Without order there can be no civilization, without civilization can there be no progress. So I say, no matter the world, no matter the place, the Law and thus I, will be there.

"Lady Suzaku, what's your opinion on the matter?" Discord asked, ready to place another tally beside his name.

"Hmm..." she said, looking towards Melody. "I agree with Triton. A world bereft of love is a world not worth living in. If the price of progress is crushing love beneath your heel, I say is a price too high. I love them too much, to let them bring ruin themselves and everyfeather else in the name of progress."

"Well it appears we're tied, Discord," Celestia said, before turning to the Slave King. "How will you cast your vote, for expanding their horizons?"

"Yes," he agreed, cracking his joints in anticipation. "Or for preserving your power and control over your domain."

The Slave King looked at them, and shook his head. "What will be, will be, it's pointless to try and stop it," he said, pointing upward. "But what I know is this, you can either try to hinder progress and fail, or guide it and profit. Whether others leave Equestria behind or not, I don't know, but when mine do it will because I lead them there."

"Well it appears that I won," Celestia said, cocking her brow at Discord while giving him a slight smile.

"Since we're done here, Discord, can you release me now?" the Slave King asked, tugging on the chain binding him to his chair.

"Ugh, fine..." he sulked, snapping his fingers and making the chains disappear. Looking down he noticed a blue card beneath his desk. Picking it up, he waved it in the air. "Look what I found, everypony, one last question to ask."

"It's from KnightofZaku to Nightmare: What are some of the fondest memories you have of your master?"

The Slave King approached Discord's desk. Picking up the card with his hand, he read it for a moment, before handing it back to him. "Discord, bring Nightmare here so she can answer the question," he said, looking at the audience. "It's the last question after all."

"Yeah, why the hay not, Slave King, that's a good point," he agreed, snapping his talon, causing Nightmare to appear beside her master. "Hello, Nightmare, I'm Discord, and I need you to answer a quick question, before I can send you back on your way."

Nightmare narrowed her eyes dangerously at the draconequus as she glanced at him, then looked back as the Pantheon behind her, and up at the Slave King beside her. Seeing her nod once, she considered Discord's request and bowed her head once.

"Okay, since you agree, Nightmare, here's the question, from KnightofZaku to Nightmare: What are some of the fondest memories you have of your master?"

Opening her maw to silently laugh, she said nothing. Turning to the Slave King, she extended her claws and raked the stage, leaving deep gashes in their wake. Confused by her lack of response, Discord turned to the Slave King.

"What's her answer?" he asked, slightly confused.

"It hasn't happened yet," the Slave King explained.

"What do you mean?" he asked, wondering what he meant.

"This," the Slave King said, with a dark chuckle. "Nightmare, sic em."

With a hiss and a throaty growl, Nightmare leapt on Discord with a murderous fury.

"Ah! Somepony save me!" Discord screamed, as the malicious ball of spite and hate tore into him with her teeth and claws.

"Nightmare, grant him no quarter, show how him no mercy," he ordered, scanning the audience for someone. Spying the one he was looking for. Pointing his metal finger towards the back of the auditorium. "You!"

The faceless crowd began scattering as the Slave King waded through their numbers. Before the poor unfortunate soul could escape, he found himself grabbed by the Slave King by scruff of the neck. The Lord of Earth's eyes burned with green bale fire as he contemplated what to do with mortal who'd vexed him so.

"Wait, Slave King!" Discord shouted out, hanging from a spot light as Nightmare leapt up at him with her claws. "There's no need for violence."

"What do you mean?" the Slave King asked, looking over his shoulder at him.

"I mean... Yikes!" Discord yelped as Nightmare's claws nearly snagged his tail. "None of this matters, once this is all done everypony gets sent home none the wiser.

"You mean everything we've said and done, has all been for nothing and a colossal waste of time?" he asked, looked at the poor soul struggling in his iron grip.

"Essentially yes... hey watch it you," Discord admitted, contorting his body as Nightmare leapt off a wall to tackle him.

"Then I suppose, 111segasonic, there's no point in assaulting you further," the Slave King said, putting him down.

Relieved he was escaping with his life, 111segasonic breathed a sigh of relief, and began running away, but before he could take three steps, he felt his feet hold fast to the red carpet beneath his feet.

"Then again, since nothing here matters," the Slave King laughed, drawing upon his power. "Suffer and perish, fool!"

There was a loud shriek and then nothing. Where 111segasonic once stood, nothing was left. All that remained, was a bit of burnt cloth, a hint of brimstone, and his lingering shadow. Letting out a silent shriek, the shadow pounded against the carpet in terror, as the Slave King walked away towards the waiting stage.

"May that teach you to fear and respect those above you, mortal," he muttered, casting evil looks at the horrified onlookers he was passing.

"Dairy Mason, are we free to go?" he asked the attorney.

The Minotaur nodded, gathering his things and placing them inside his briefcase. "Yes, I believe you've performed your part in good faith," he said, tipping his hat to them before stepping off the stage. "As always it's a pleasure, Princess Celestia, Lord Triton, and Slave King."

"What about me?" Discord asked from his swinging spot light, as he ducked to avoid Nightmare's claws.

"Sorry, Discord," Dairy Mason said before exiting the auditorium. "You're not my client."

"Aiee," Discord shrieked, as Nightmare finally sunk her teeth into his tail. "Fine, fine! You can go, you can all go!"

Snapping his talons as quickly as could, Discord was dismissing them as quickly as possible in the hopes of getting free from Nightmare's jaw. As he cast his wild and unpredictable chaos magic, reality began unraveling in this place. The last thing the Slave King heard before all existence ended, were the words "...finally! My poor aching tail!"

*****

He woke up laying on the ground next to his wife. He tried to get up, but found his arms were too weak to pull himself upright. Unable to stand up under his own power he placed his hand on her side. "Wife, ugh, help me up please," he called out, wondering how he'd managed to fall on the ground. His memory was spotty, he couldn't quite remember why he was on the ground. The last thing he could remember was the dark mirror hanging on his wall, it had upset him for some reason, but he wasn't quite sure why. Looking to his left, he saw the remains of the mirror laying on the ground in hundreds of pieces.

He felt himself being levitated by his wife's magic, and felt relief. "Wife, watch your step, there's broken glass everywhere," he warned, grabbing ahold of her shoulder for balance.

"What hast happened to thy mirror, beloved?" she asked, looking down at the broken shards at her hooves.

"Wife, I have no idea," he admitted, trembling as he leaned against her for support.

"Husband, dost thou desireth us to restore thy mirror to thee?" she asked, prodding a large shard with her hoof.

"Leave it to the servants to clean up," he instructed, pointing towards the door. "Take me to my bath, wife, I desire to bathe."

"Yea, beloved, I shall take thee there," she gently said, nuzzling his cheek before leading him out of the room.

Behind them on the ground, scattered in pieces, a rather bemused looking Discord watched as they left their bedchamber from the mirrors shards. Raising his paw, he was about to offer a witty quip when he heard a low growl behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw to his despair, the dark terror who keeps ten thousand terrors at bay, Nightmare, the first creation. Leaping in fear and screaming in terror, Discord tried snapping his claws to send her away but found they kept slipping, as she chased him through the field of broken shards

Author's Note

Thank you gentlereader for reading this noncanon chapter of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, as always comments are appreciated.

Oh wow, is all I can say, gentlereader. When I first set out to write this ask me anything, I hadn't quite expected it would be so big. At over twenty thousand words, this chapter is the largest one in this book. Additionally, I think I've added more emotion and character development between the Slave King and Princess Luna in this entire book, in what basically equates to a throw away noncanon chapter. But what can you do, the best laid plans of people and ponies and all that you know. Well now that this ask me anything is done, I can focus on properly progressing the story.

Hopefully I didn't end up offending anyone with the responses, especially 111segasonic and Moongaze14. Usually when you read these AMA and someone asks an irreverent or silly and they usually ignore it or give a silly answer in return. But I wanted the Pantheon to take this completely seriously, so I wrote their responses as if how I think they'd each answer. Hopefully the repetition of Discord picking up cards and asking questions wasn't too boring. As far as the Chaos Studio bit goes, I was trying to channel Will Ferrel's impression of James Lipton, as seen here:

As I was writing Discord's parts, it slowly morphed into a quasi Conan/Letterman vibe. Funnily enough I was even to provide a musical guest courtesy of Melody.

Because there some questions I couldn't answer easily, or might conflict with the Pantheon knew in character, I needed a reason for them not to answer, the solution was a divine lawyer of sorts. Originally I was going to have a pair of attorneys, Dairy Mason, Minotaur attorney-at-law, and his griffin partner, Andy Griffin. Because Matlock isn't as easy a pun to make as Perry Mason was, and two attorneys were superfluous, I decided to drop Andy Griffin from the chapter. In the end I think it was for the best.

Even though I'd alluded to the Song of Creation in comments and in he story to some degree, I thought it might be fun to show how Equestria might've come to be. Beyond being a good bonding moment for Luna and the Slave King, it was fun imagining the two singing and dancing together to make the world.

Originally when I was writing the chapter, I had planned on having the Slave King in his elemental form trying to escape Discord's trap, eventually I decided waking up alone, floating in the middle of a void was the better choice.

Reading over the questions, I realized that KnightofZaku's question was the perfect way to end the bit, and it lead into the perfect gag of her favorite memory of her master, being her attacking Discord, and the end gag of her sneaking up on him inside the broken mirror, where he thought it was safe. Coincidentally, this seems to be the first real piece of comedy I've written, how do you think I did?

Well I think I've about covered everything, if you'd wanted to ask a question and hadn't gotten to it I'm sorry you missed it. However, I'm more then happy to reply your comments. So if you any further questions or I didn't answer yours to you satisfaction, please post and I'll be happy to get to you.
Looking forward to reading your thoughts, gentlereader, on this chapter and the upcoming chapter twelve.

Enjoy the next exciting chapter of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, coming soon to computer near you!

Once again, gentlereader, thank you for reading and all your kind words and support. You make writing worthwhile. Until next time!

Chapter 12: Is Hate Not Love Peering Through the Dark Glass of Obsession?

The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter

A Story by TalonMach5

Chapter 12: Is Hate Not Love Peering Through the Dark Glass of Obsession?

Dipping the quill into the inkwell, she levitated it just above the parchment as she pondered over what she should write on the waiting page. Normally, she never had trouble putting ink to parchment, but right now she wasn’t quite sure what she should write. Would her words offend her or anger him? It was the last thing she wished to have happen. She wished to remind her of the sisterly love she held for her, and she desired to reassure him of her good intentions towards him, his domain and people.

Though it had been less than a month since she’d last seen her sister, it felt like an age had passed since her withdrawal from Equestria to the distant South. Of course it was to be expected, she’d taken his hoof in marriage, and now their lives had diverged from each other. No longer were they fated to be the inseparable pony sisters, now she was alone in Londwhinium while her sister tended to her newly wedded husband’s needs.

When she had first hatched the plot to bind her sister to him through marriage, it seemed like such a wise and prudent plan. In her mind’s eye, she had envisioned the two of them reluctantly coming together, and slowly over time growing to learn to appreciate each other. Her sister’s gentle and kind demeanor softening his hardened heart, while his steadfast disposition and levelheaded attitude would help bring her back into balance. Until finally, they’d discovered that their mutual respect and admiration had blossomed into true love.

But like all best laid plans, once she’d set it into motion unexpected complications arose. She’d foreseen his reticence to the whole idea of marriage to anypony let alone her sister, but what had occurred after the wedding had come out of the blue. He’d been struck by some foul curse, and had blamed her sister for it. Certainly the evidence against her sister was great, and as far as she knew, nopony else had a better opportunity to harm him.

By cursing him so, cruel fate had thrown all her plans for them into complete disarray. It had been her hope that once her sister had won his heart, that he’d put aside the darkness corroding his soul, and reach out to the Pantheon in earnest reconciliation. Then together, they would unravel the tangled skein that demanded he enslave others for the Domain of Earth’s benefit. She’d hoped that with the birth of their first foal and the creation of a new pony tribe, their domains would become indelibly linked, and over time would grow ever closer together.

Of course it wouldn’t be easy, the worthwhile things seldom were; but she was certain with the dismantling of the slave trade, things in Equestria would become right once more. She remembered the great machines she’d marveled at within his manufactorium and longed to share in the vision he must have for them. She could only wonder at their intended purpose, and mused at what other fruit his genius might bear to everypony’s benefit.

Looking down at the luxuriously thick carpet beneath her hooves, she saw the growing pile of rejected invitations she’d written thus far. The Grand Galloping Gala was less than a month away, and she’d yet to send him his invitation. Five hundred, a large number to be sure, and the number of times she’d invited him to attend, partake in the festivities, and enjoy her hospitality over the past centuries since she’d first known him.

Yet each time she’d sent an invitation, he’d declined to attend. Most of the time he didn’t even bother replying. But this time it would be different, she decided. This time, escorted by her sister as his wife, he would come. Then at the gala, in front of everypony, she would extend him an invitation and if he accepted, officially welcome him into the royal family as a brother and prince, the equal of both herself and his wife.

She remembered her sister’s bitter lamentations when they last parted. She’d convinced herself that nopony truly cared for her, and it was her hope to prove that her fears weren’t the least bit true. She was certain that once she saw how many ponies had come to pay their respects to the newly wedded couple, her newfound joy at the discovery would banish the bitterness in her heart away.

Yes, she decided, once her sister saw how greatly she was missed at court she’d long to return to them, to come home to Londwhinium. She was certain that once her sister had decided to return, she’d be sure to bring her husband along for the ride with her. Then once they had comfortably settled in, she could approach him about the possibility of integrating their territories together in harmony and friendship.

Over the centuries, the ponies of Equestria had been fruitful. But now their burgeoning population needed more room to grow and expand, and the Domain of Earth to their south had room and to spare for her subjects. Although her proposition would certainly be beneficial to her, his subjects would also proper. She had land unsuitable to ponies laying unused and fallow, that she was sure the diamond dogs could comfortably settle in. Rich veins of minerals and gems too deep for her ponies to easily reach were there for the taking, and she was certain his hounds would have little trouble establishing mining towns and warrens there for their families.

Looking at a tapestry affixed to a nearby wall depicting Equestria and the lands beyond, she saw the vast Domain of Earth and its vast untapped potential. Land he considered barren wilderness, but nevertheless land that with a little hard work and sweat from her ponies could be easily made into productive farms and orchards. The towns and villages that would inevitably spring up to support their reclamation efforts would invariably become centers of commerce and industry, and she was sure once he’d shared his machines with them, their newly joined realms and shared subjects would become an even more industrious and prosperous people.

Of course her plan wasn’t without risks, nopony in history had ever proposed something as audacious as this before. His predecessor, Lord Darkpaw had been too territorial to have ever contemplated, let alone advanced such an idea to him. But the current Lord of Earth was a different sort of stallion, one who might agree to such a mutually beneficial arrangement, and with the exception of Lord Ouroboros, she was fairly certain none of the others would have any objections either.

Lord Triton she felt, would be in strong support of such an arrangement, provided he received unfettered access for his order to travel in the south, as they had elsewhere in order to quest and dispense justice in accordance with the Law. With slavery finally coming to its ignominious end, Lady Zephyr and her subjects could rest easy, knowing that no more foalnapping would occur, and once it was gone relations between their peoples could finally normalize in peace and prosperity.

Although this arrangement would benefit them all, she was sure some of the Londwhinium nobility would grumble and dig in their heels in protest. Some might complain that the mixing of the races was unnatural, that those southern mudslinger tribes they considered beneath them should be viewed only with scorn, distrust, and suspicion. But as always, she’d provide gentle correction to the reluctant, debate the merits and virtues of her vision as she reasoned with the wise; and for those too stubborn to see logic and reason, firmly remind the proud who it was that ruled over them.

Even though she loved her little ponies dearly, it saddened her that some thought that by virtue of either their birthright, station, or wealth, that some ponies were far more worthy than others, and even more so amongst the nonpony tribes. For that reason, she hoped that her sister’s union to the Lord of Earth would bless them with many foals and give rise to the next new pony tribe. A half pony, half wayfarer addition to the royal family would help silence any dissent in welcoming the diamond dogs and other beast folk tribes into the herd.

That was why, once a suitable site had been found, that she was commissioning a new capital for Equestria. One not only for her ponies, but for everypony else who wished to join with her in harmony and friendship. If he decided to join hooves with her, she would welcome him with open wings and invite him to move his capital there as well. Then together, they would jointly rule their linked domains in sisterhood and good fellowship.

At least she hoped so, there was so much that needed to be done before she could even consider such daring dreams, starting with her missive to the Slave King, inviting him, Luna, and their retinue to join her in jubilation by attending this year’s gala. Looking back at the blank parchment before her, she frowned when she saw how plain it was, certainly she could do better than this.

Opening her desk drawer, she examined the contents inside. She had many different sheets of parchment available, heavyweight, scented, and plentiful others to choose from. Levitating the heavyweight bonded parchment in the air, she slowly moved it up and down, casting a critical eye at it as it flexed and bent with the gentle movement of her magic. The parchment was weighty, not unlike her proposal. Being that this might be the beginning of something grand and momentous, she supposed that it might be fitting to use to write his invitation.

Putting it aside for the moment, she considered the scented parchment next. It was a light shade of pink, and emanated the heavenly scent of blooming roses in spring. She supposed if she sent him an invitation on it, he might think she was trying to seduce him. A playful thought that brought a small smile to her lips, but such a move would surely make her sister unhappy, and would certainly undermine any hope of her being rejoined at her sister’s side.

No, she decided, the scented parchment sent the wrong message. Then perhaps the gilded then? This particular piece of parchment was embossed with gold letterhead and edging. Intricate stylized patterns ran along the edges, and the page itself seemed more like gold leaf than anything else. Truly the parchment’s ostentatious display showed that the sender thought a great deal of the sendee, or at least enough not to care about the great cost that sending such a letter might incur.

Hmm… she mused, seriously considering sending her invitation to the Slave King on it. Dipping her quill into the inkwell, she was about to write the invite with beautiful flowing calligraphy, when she stopped. No, this wouldn’t do. Remembering his great vault and the wealth it contained within strewn about like dross, she knew no matter how costly the invitation he’d receive; the Slave King wasn’t a stallion impressed by mere wealth.

But then, what should I do? she thought, while lightly nibbling on the end of the quill before sticking her tongue out in disgust at the bitter aftertaste of ink befouling it.

Looking down at the blank page starring back up at her, she wondered what the Slave King might say if he saw her paralyzed by such a thing. “Probably… and you thought to convince me to join forces with somepony who can’t even write a simple note without trembling with indecision beneath the weight of the words? Pathetic…” she said, mimicking his gravelly voice as best she could.

Dipping the quill into the inkwell, she decided to stop second guessing herself, and began to write.

To my dearly beloved sister, Luna the Beautiful, Lady of Night,

Dearest Sister, I hope my letter is finding you in winsome spirits. We hope these past few days of marriage have been a balm to you. I realize when last we parted, you were feeling unhappy regarding our subjects apparent lack of interest in your court. I know everypony in the palace misses you and longs for your return, as much as I do, but we recognize your new responsibility to you and your husband’s subjects and joint domains.

I know the wedding took many of our subjects by surprise, and they were disappointed when they learned they missed a chance to offer their well wishes and gifts to you and your new husband. With that being said, everypony would be delighted to see you and the Slave King attend this year’s Grand Galloping Gala together. Attending, would give our subjects a chance to congratulate you and get acquainted with their new lord.

I know the Slave King has always rebuffed my many attempts at convincing him to attend over the years, but with your assistance I’m sure we can persuade him to consider coming this time. If he requires further enticing beyond your powers of coaxing, advise him that Orchid from the Nirvana Spa has graciously offered her further services if he so desires them.

I know that things aren’t as you wish them to be, but remember that tomorrow is always another day, another chance to realize your dreams. Please come, I would be delighted to host you and your husband as the gala’s guests of honor. Allow our kingdom the opportunity to celebrate your marriage, and if you won’t do it for me at least do it for our subjects. Ever since you left us, your nights haven’t been as nearly warm as they once were, and even if it’s for but a night, we eagerly await your swift return to us.

Impatiently awaiting your return to me, my beloved sister.

In loving devotion, with hugs and kisses, your sister Celestia.

Reading over the letter to her sister, she smiled at the words of longing and sisterly affection they held. Lightly placing a kiss on the parchment besides her signature, she carefully folded it and affixing her seal, the stylized image of two alicorns chasing each others tail over the sunburst of her cutie mark, to it. Pulling another similar piece of parchment from her drawer, she began writing a second letter.

To my esteemed and honored brother, Slave King, Lord of Earth,

Slave King, I hope this past week with my sister Luna have been a joy to you. I know that your marriage to her was something you never desired, but I’ve found over the years, that many things that have brought me such happiness and great joy were the ones I least expected and never went looking for. Although you might still be cross with me over the matter, please don’t ascribe any of the blame to her due to my short comings.

With that being said, this year’s Grand Galloping Gala is happening this fortnight, and I wish to extend you an invitation to attend alongside my sister. It would mean so much to me if you would consider coming, to Luna especially. This last century has been trying for her, and being accompanied to the gala by her dear husband, would mean all the world to her.

Additionally, it would give you an opportunity to meet some of your new subjects in pony. I know relations between our two peoples could at best be described as rocky, but an opportunity to meet their new lord might allow relations between some of our more frosty ponies to finally thaw towards you and your subjects. Hopefully once my guests see you’re not nearly as terrible as the old mare’s tales say you are, we’ll be able to convince them to give you a chance.

Please know, Slave King that even if you decline my invitation, the gates to Londwhinium and my palace will always be open to you. I await your favorable response with hope, and pray for your speedy recovery.

With love and fondness, your friend, Celestia.

Rereading what she’d written to him, she warmly smiled as she felt her heart warm with tender affection for him. Satisfied that her heartfelt words would convey all she felt towards the Slave King, she neatly folded the letter, sealed it with wax, and pressed her golden seal to the parchment, hiding its words from any prying eyes.

Levitating a small silver bell with her magic, Celestia, rang it twice, before returning it back to her desk. Within a minute, a grey, heavily mustached stallion wearing a monocle and immaculate black suit entered.

With a polite bow, he turned to look up at her. “Good evening, princess. How may I serve you?” he genteelly asked, giving her an expectant look.

“Kibbitz, please see to it that both of these letters are sent to the Slave King’s palace in the Domain of Earth,” she said, levitating the letters towards him.

“But of course, Princess Celestia, without delay,” the unicorn agreed, grabbing hold of sealed letters and placing them inside his satchel with his own magic. “So do you think that the Slave King will come this year?”

“I don’t know, Kibbitz, but I truly hope he does,” she said, looking towards the room’s south facing balcony.

“And what of your sister?” he asked, moving to refresh her teacup.

“Of course Luna will be attending, as she does every year,” she replied, confident that her sister would never abandon her to deal with the Londwhinium nobility all by her lonesome.

“But hasn’t Princess Luna been summoning her servants to join her in the South?” he asked, levitating a pot of tea above her cup.

“It’s only natural they follow her, Kibbitz, she’s decided to move her court there after all,” she said, feeling the need to defend her sister’s actions from his questions.

“And hasn’t she always bitterly complained about the gala these last few years?” he pointed out as he filled her cup. “What if she decides to use this as an excuse to not attend? After all, she might think it more prudent to curry favor with the nobility of her new domain.”

“At the expense of the Londwhinium nobility?” she replied aghast, raising her brow questioningly at him. “The gala is a simple party, nothing more than a chance to let down your mane. Its intent was only ever meant to grow and foster new friendships, an opportunity to catch up with old friends and renew fading friendships. It was never meant to stir up mistrust and interdomain intrigue.”

“I’m sure your sister will do the right thing in attending, princess,” he replied, moving to fill her tea cup once more.

Shaking her head at the offered tea, Princess Celestia turned to look back out through the open balcony. “Oh, Luna…” she murmured, wondering if she’d done the right thing by her sister, in encouraging her to seek the Slave King’s hoof in marriage. Turning her head, she studied Kibbitz’s satchel momentarily before returning her thoughts and gaze to her sister in the South.

“Princess Celestia, will there be anything else?” he asked, looking into her magenta eyes.

“No, Kibbitz,” she said, sighing with longing for her absent sister. “That will be all.”

“Very well,” he said, moving towards the door. Reaching out with his magic, he opened it and placed a hoof on the stone hallway outside the room. Pausing for a moment, he looked back over his shoulder at her. “Don’t worry, Princess Celestia. I’m sure she’ll come, if only to see you.”

Touched by his sentiment, she offered him a warm smile. “Thank you, Kibbitz,” she said, returning to her desk. “Please request an RSVP be attached to the letters when you send them.”

Nodding once, he closed the door behind him as he exited the room. Alone once more, Celestia looked down at all the crumpled balls of parchment at her hooves and sighed. Hopefully both the Slave King and Luna would respond favorably to her request to come to Londwhinium. Looking out the balcony towards the south one last time, she supposed if neither of them deigned to come, she could always try again next year.

*****

His red eyes read over the words written on the parchment that he held aloft with his magic. Normally receiving such a letter would’ve made him a very happy stallion, however with things being as dreadful as they were, he was in a very precarious position and didn’t really wish to attend. It wasn’t every day that one would receive an invitation to such a prestigious event, but as the lord of this domain it was expected that he would be in attendance. The most prestigious and important nobility from all the worthwhile domains would be there, and if he didn’t make a showing there, it would reflect quite poorly on his standing amongst those he considered his peers.

But beyond the possible embarrassment of being a no show, should he fail to make an appearance, ponies might start talking and begin asking all sorts of inconvenient questions. This early into his reign, he couldn’t risk anypony finding out what he was up to, least of all the Slave King. Should his onetime master discover he was currently serving another, he was certain that he’d learn first hoof the truth behind the rumors of the Lord of Earth’s terrible Cavern of Torment. Thinking to leave the invitation on his bureau he thought the better of it, before leaving the room behind him as he walked out onto balcony to collect his thoughts with the invitation in tow.

If all he had to worry about was the Slave King it wouldn’t be so bad, but his coconspirators had set him up to take the fall if they were ever discovered, and were essentially blackmailing him into doing their bidding now. Originally he’d entered into their pact as an equal partner, but now they had him over a barrel, and there was nothing he could do on his own to extricate himself from the noose they had so snugly placed around his neck. They were demanding the impossible from him, and if he failed to meet their demands they’d threatened to tell the Slave King, or even worse, permanently replace him via changeling assassination.

Contemplating the grim possibility of such a grisly end, he paced back and forth in agitation as the parchment trailed behind him. There was no question about it, the insect could easily do it if he were so inclined. With the changeling’s impressive infiltration skills and magical means of disguising himself as anypony or anything, he could easily wait until his guard was down to take him out, and replace him before he’d felt the knife slashing his throat. Then with himself out of the way, they’d be able to continue with their plot, without any hope of ever avenging himself upon them.

In fact, he was certain that nopony would notice his disappearance, or if they did, wouldn’t care in the least about his untimely demise. Certainly none of his subjects would. If anything they’d consider it a joyous occasion. Following Second’s suggestion, he’d begun asserting his authority over the populous with a heavy hoof almost immediately. Of course this hadn’t won him any allies, and had instead of cementing his rule over the crystal ponies, instigated a rebellion against him almost immediately.

He wasn’t a fool, but Second had made it very clear that he expected him to squeeze as much labor out of them as possible. Looking out over the Crystal Dominion from his bedroom balcony, he lowered his head and laid back his ears as he contemplated his precariously dire circumstances. Why had he ever agreed to work with Second in the first place? He could’ve easily betrayed the doomhound to the Slave King many times over, but every time he’d contemplated it, he looked at his burning eyes and fierce teeth and immediately lost his nerve and any will to do it.

With the favor he’d received from the Slave King when he’d presented his boon token, he could’ve had anything his heart desired; becoming the garrison commander of Bone’s Landing, replacing the Domain of Earth’s triumvirate governor in Shade Hoof, or even joining the Slave King’s shadowy Council of Thirteen back at the capitol. But instead he’d followed Second’s plan in its entirety, and the only reward he’d received for his troubles had been betrayal at Second’s hooves by favoring and promoting that vile insect Bazzt Zzzt over himself.

There was nothing he could do, no recourse he could take. He either obeyed Bazzt Zzzt’s, and thus Second’s unforgiving commands to the letter, or face the Slave King’s wrath alone. He heard the gentle clopping of her hooves approaching him from behind, and bit his lip as he heavily exhaled out from his nose in annoyance at her unwelcome intrusion. Turning to face her, he glowered as the cheerful yellow coat and shining pink mane of his former plaything and hopeful future partner assaulted his eyes.

Looking at her, he examined the numerous angry red welts and dark purple bruises he’d gifted her over the numerous sessions he’d enjoyed with her in the past. Each bore testament to his malicious cruelty and wickedness. He’d humiliated and mocked her with nary a thought for her wellbeing, beaten and maligned her with impunity, roughly used and abused her to his heart’s content, and now she was offering him a way out and had only asked that he trust her in return.

She stood before him, silently looking into his cold hard eyes. He studied her sapphire blue eyes in return, nervously pawing at the stone beneath his hooves while contemplating his ever diminishing options. He could accept her offer, she’d promised him to intercede with the Slave King on his behalf. Her only stipulation was he stop the tyranny he’d foisted upon her former subjects, the crystal ponies. But then that left him precariously vulnerable should either Bazzt Zzzt or Second catch wind of his shifting loyalty.

He considered her offer, on the surface it seemed it was a good one. Marry the mare and make her his queen, confess the entirety of his sins to the Slave King, and pray that his soon to be wife kept her end of their little bargain. Studying her crystalline coat, his eyes followed the supple curves of her nicely toned flanks. She was an alluring and comely creature for a hornless mud pony, and even now he could feel the lust in his loins rising. Entering into a marriage with the former queen was certainly the least grisly fate which waited for him. Especially considering if what she’d told him was true. She was with foal, and he was to become a father.

Fatherhood. He’d never seriously considered the possibility before. Oh sure, he was fairly certain he’d sired bastards in the past, the likely outcome from rutting with whores from time to time. But never before had he given any serious thought to his progeny, until now that is. If their previous night’s impassioned mating had born fruit, then she was with foal, and he was most assuredly its sire.

She’d claimed she’d ensured her fertility to reassure him of her intentions not to betray him to the Slave King, but he was fairly certain it was simply another means of trying to ensure his cooperation in restoring the crystal ponies their liberty. He supposed if he were a diamond dog like Second or a vile changeling like that wretched bug, he might not care for the fate of the child. But familial ties in ponies ran much deeper than the other less worthy races, even in unrepentant traitors like himself.

Before he was aware of the likely possibility she was carrying his foal, the nebulous bastards of the whores who he’d rutted with impunity back in the Neo Vale had been of no concern of his. It was much easier to rationalize the foals were the unwanted product of some other pony’s long forgotten coupling, rather than being his own flesh and blood. But there was no turning away from this. If the mare was pregnant it was his and no other stallion’s child.

He supposed if he wanted, he could just put an end to things right her and now. Throwing her off the balcony would be easy, and he could simply arrange for Bazzt Zzzt to play her part should the need arise. He could see the look of shock and betrayal in his mind’s eye as he lifted her up and over the edge of the balcony with his magic before unceremoniously dropping her to her demise. But if he did that, he would be even further indebted to Second and that infuriating insect. So clearly, he couldn’t simply kill her and be done with it.

Then there was the possibility she was playing him. Her assurances that she was with foal, nothing more than a clever ruse, an attempt to convince him to confess his infamy to the Slave King in full. For once he’d spoken, his only chance to survive was hoping for mercy, and without her influence to beg for clemency he was fairly certain the Slave King would have precious little to spare for him for his despicable betrayal, wicked sins, numerous misdeeds, and treacherous ways.

Glancing sideways at her for a brief moment, he turned his attention back to the city he’d been entrusted with and the desolate frozen wilds that lay beyond the protection offered by the Slave King’s power and influence. Truly no place else was better situated than here if somepony wished to exercise their ambitions in carving out a kingdom for themselves.

There was ample land suitable for growing crops, and was fertile enough to support a thriving crystal berry wine industry. The mountains to the north, south and east of them provided an ample buffer from adventurous powers possessing a wandering eye. Fittingly, as a vassal state of the Domain of Earth, the mountains also boasted numerous productive mines, which promised to provide his city with a steady stream of riches and revenue far into the future if they were managed properly.

If not for Second or his bug lackey, he could easily run the Crystal Domain without interference from anypony. He simply had to send the Slave King the occasional crates of crystals as tribute, and nopony would stop him from doing as he pleased. Even his closest neighbor Cerynitis, the Lord of Winter wouldn’t care what he did as long as he respected their shared border.

Yes, his domain and city had a lot of potential, and only lacked for somepony with the proper ambition and ample imagination to see things through. He only needed to navigate the duel dangers of his former partners in conspiracy and his hopeful new partner in betrayal. Yes, if he could successfully manipulate the mare into doing his bidding for now, together they could end the doomhound and crush the changeling. And once that was ended, he could easily put the little mare to rest permanently.

As the plan took root in his mind, he malevolently smiled as it spread through his dark, corroded soul like a choking kudzu. Like Second, she thought to trap him in her web, and manipulate him into her bidding, before discarding him once she had no further use for him. But he was determined that nopony would ever use him again. Instead, he would use them with impunity, only to discard them once he had no further use for them.

Turning back to the mare who’d thrown him a lifeline and seemingly offered him the only means of escaping Second’s inescapable trap, he lowered his head to her.

“So, my lord,” she said, taking a few hoofsteps as she gingerly drew closer towards him. Considering his lower posture, she smiled and offered him her hoof. “Have you given any further thought to last night’s proposal?”

He remembered her words laced with hope and holding the promise of salvation from the darkness that threatened to damn him to the Pit. If her intentions were pure and words were true, he could bury Second beneath the Slave King’s wrath, while avoiding an equally gruesome fate for himself. But if her honeyed words were naught but deception, he would most assuredly share in the doomhound’s fate courtesy of the Slave King’s harsh and swift justice.

Only a fool would knock away the hoof that sought to aid you, but a stallion’s ambition was a tricky thing. He considered what the future might hold, and imagined what life together with her as his queen might be. They might rule together, seeing the Crystal Domain slowly grow in wealth and prestige. There was no more Bazzt Zzzt to humiliate and threaten him, no more Second to manipulate and hurt him. With her at his side, he could finally be free.

“My lord?” she queried, drawing even closer to his side.

He said nothing, instead further mulling over his admittedly limited choices. She was close enough now that he could smell the faint intermingled scent of her pheromones and lingering perfume. The soft clop of her hooves against the crystalline balcony lightly rang through the still crisp mountain air surrounding them. Her hoofsteps stopped and the hairs of his coat stood on end. He could nearly feel her standing beside him, close enough to lean on if he so chose.

If he wanted, he could lean upon the mare, accept her generous bargain, and forget all his worries. He simply had to trust her. It was so tempting, all he had to do was cast a simple scanning spell and he would know for certain if she was with foal. If she was, he would willingly agree to all her terms. So simple, so tempting, yet so difficult.

“Please, my lord,” she implored, lightly leaning against his dark coat as she rested her head upon his coal black mane. “Help us.”

He lightly shivered as he felt her leaning against his shoulder. He looked at her momentarily before turning his attention back to the invitation he held aloft with his magic. If he wanted to he could put an end to this charade right now. She was standing less than a half a length from the balcony’s railing, it would be a small matter to toss her over the railing to her death below.

“Let me help you, my lord,” she continued, wrapping her tail around him and drawing him closer.

Standing beside her, he felt her warmth beginning to envelop him. He felt her shallow rhythmic breathing, as the gentle thrum of her heart threatened to further weaken his crumbling resolve, as he resisted the deepening desire to look into her shining blue eyes.

She moved to face him and placed a gentle kiss upon his muzzle. “If not for your sake, my lord,” she pled, looking into his dark red eyes. “For our child’s…”

He nervously stomped his hoof and lightly pawed at the crystal balcony beneath him. He only needed to cast the spell upon her, and with the knowledge his fate would be sealed. He would have no other choice. He would assuredly know. Releasing the invitation from his magic’s grasp, he lit his horn anew and prepared to cast the spell that would show him the truth.

Looking down, his hopeful mate saw the invitation for the Grand Galloping Gala at his hooves, and bent down to retrieve it. “Your invitation to the gala,” she said, reading the invite.

Nodding once, he withdrew the magic from his horn.

“My lord,” she continued, flicking back her mane. “Will I be attending it alongside you as your betrothed?”

He said nothing, only exhaling through his nostrils as he nodded his head once.

Seeing his assent to her offer, she offered him a look of relief, as she kissed him once more in gratitude. “So tell me about your master’s plot against the Slave King,” she said, preparing herself to commit every last detail of the sorted scheme to memory.

“It all began several years ago when Second approached me…” he explained, revealing to her the truth behind the conspiracy that he’d worn like a cloak for so long.

Revealing the sordid details to her, he looked at her barrel and the possible life growing within her. He thought about using the scanning spell once more, but immediately banished the idea from his mind. After all the Grand Galloping Gala was less than a month away. That left him plenty of time to decide if he would truly betray his master. If not, he could still tie up any lose ends free from a guilty conscience before it was too late.

Offering the fool of a mare that thought to manipulate him a reassuring smile, as he continued laying the entirety of the plan bare. After all, he was damned either way, so he may as well keep all his options open. Besides, if he played his cards right, he might rid himself of both Second and the bothersome mare. And then once more, it would be good to be the king.

*****

Laying back, he closed his eyes and rested his head against the smooth stone that ran along the lip of the large hot spring that served as his bath. He didn’t afford himself many pleasures, but occasionally splurged on a luxury for himself from time to time. Beyond his light steady breathing, nary a sound but the light playful splashing of water against unyielding stone, the occasional drip from the ceiling hitting the floor, and the gentle tinkle of the water streams that renewed the pool, could be heard. All in all, it looked like a hot spring, no different than any other. Beyond the presence of its master within, this place might seem unremarkable to most. But for those who had eyes to see, they would consider this cozy little grotto a place of power.

There were no glowing runes nor shining sigils displaying its power, or any grand statues or intricately carved reliefs adorning the walls to declare it to the world. But all the same it was there, and none were more keenly aware of that fact then her. She stood away from him on the opposite side of the room, pretending to stare at the lightly bubbling water of the bath as she watched his deeply scarred chest rise and fall in time with his rhythmic breathing. By all rights, being together with him here in such an intimate setting should have brought solace to her bruised and tender heart. But being beside the one pony who should have been a healing panacea and soothing balm to her troubled soul, did naught to boost her melancholy spirits.

She was alone and adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Before she’d moved to the South to join with him, she’d been surrounded by the useless sycophantic aristocracy of her people, ungrateful petitioning gentry, and numerous nameless servants to cater to her every desire. Back in Londwhinium, even though she was surrounded by ponies vying for her attention and favor, she’d felt alone and estranged from her subjects. Although they’d professed their unceasing devotion and undying loyalty to her, she was fairly certain they were merely going through the rote steps until they could reach their true objective, her sister’s court.

Thinking of their empty words and false promises made her blood boil. But compared to his apathy and cold indifference towards her, she felt her temper flare. She was sacrificing so much for him, and was receiving so little in return. Was it so foalish to expect warmth for warmth and kindness for kindness? Her heart ached for even the faintest ember of affection and her soul hungered to know true companionship once more.

If only thou woulds’t return the feeling of our heart, beloved, she lamented, desperately yearning that he reach out his hoof to her in tenderness. Shoulds’t thou grace us with thy love’s tender embrace but once, we woulds’t be satisfied with our lot.

Alas we art alone, our fate is desolation, and our end oblivion, she continued, sorrowful there was nopony she could share her bruised and wounded heart with. Coulds’t thou knowest our lament and offer us succor, we woulds’t love thee forever more and longer.

Mine beloved, bar no more thy heart from our tenderness, she implored, feeling her eyes grow heavy with remorse and cheeks wet with salty tears. Soften thy stony heart and till its rocky soil, allow us to tend to thy barren garden and plant the seed of mine love within its hidden place.

Come beloved, let us harvest the fruits of our union, she pled, looking towards the day he would accept her proffered love with hope in her heart. Together we shalt know neither tears nor sorrow evermore.

Feeling melancholy, eh, Luna? the voice asked, breaking her from her dirge of lament.

Harrumphing in annoyance at the voice’s intrusion during such an intimate soliloquy she’d intended only for her beloved to know, the Lady of Night said nothing. Choosing instead to focus only on her husband resting peacefully in the healing waters of the bubbling bath.

Oh, little princess, don’t be that way, the voice continued, oozing with smarmy sarcasm. We’re friends after all, and friends share their feelings with each other.

We wish to be alone with our husband, Luna replied, desperately wishing she could return to composing her ballad to her husband free from the voice’s mockery and derision.

Why alone, Luna… Feeling ashamed perhaps? the voice countered, insinuating she was too cowardly to lay bare her heart to her resting husband.

Fiend! False-friend! she huffed, vexed and feeling sore the voice thought her fearful. We art not some besotted maid, grown tipsy on the new wine of love. We art a married mare, we art beloved! He loveth us, we knowest it.

If your husband loves you so, why were you whispering your words to yourself, rather than regaling them to him? the voice pointedly asked, slashing through her protests with its razor sharp words.

He loveth us, he truly does, she protested, doubting the truth of her own words. He simply must loveth us, he must…

He will… the voice promised, speaking into her ear with silken words.

But how? she wondered, all feelings of hostility towards the voice dissolving into the aether.

Soon all you desire will be yours, my impatient princess, the voice replied with a slight chuckle, pleased by her desperation. Accolades, respect, all that is by rights yours, will be yours once more.

Wilt he finally showeth us his hidden heart? she wondered, feeling slightly hopeful he would utter the words she’d craved to hear since their wedding.

He will love you and more, the voice agreed, tempting her with the prize she so desired.

Waiting, tis not so easy, she lamented, wondering what plan the voice had cooked up this time.

Luna, I understand your angst, the voice sympathized. I truly do. However it’s a shame your husband does not.

He shoulds’t, she darkly replied, narrowing her eyes into slits while lowering her voice to a low pitched growl.

Of course he should, the voice agreed. What sort of stallion denies their wife what they so richly deserve? Especially one as devoted and long suffering as you?

Tis the truth, thou speaketh, Luna said, nodding her head in agreement with its sage wisdom and honest appraisal of her situation. We art eternally devoted to our husband’s care and wellbeing.

Then maybe it’s time you reminded him of that fact, the voice suggested, reminding her of all she had done for the Slave King since they’d wed.

But what cans’t we do? she replied, placing her hoof to her muzzle as she contemplated her available options. How cans’t we encourageth him to be just and righteous towards us?

Have you not served him faithfully according to his whims and desires? the voice pointed out, reminding her of all she had done for her husband during their brief time together. Perhaps it’s time for you to make your needs known.

But we hast already plainly made clear our desires to him, she objected, wishing that her husband would freely offer himself to her. He knowest we desireth his gentle touch and kind affections, but hast so far steadfastly refuseth all our advances.

If he refuses to see reason, perhaps you should consider compelling him, the voice sternly admonished, reminding her of the power she held over her husband. Remember who it is that commands the darkness.

We coulds’t never demand such from our beloved, Luna said, flinching back in revulsion at the thought of forcing anypony, least of all her husband to obey her in that way. We art not some wicked tyrant wishing to tread all beneath our hoof with nary a care for another! We art the gentle night.

Would you consider the parent that forces their foal to eat vegetables a tyrant, when the child would prefer candy instead? the voice argued, pointing out the flaws in her logic.

But our husband is not some foal barely out of his nappy, Luna replied, looking towards the discarded threadbare garments near her hooves. He is the Slave King, Lord of Earth, a Prime Element, and nearly our equal in power.

But isn’t he? the voice countered, letting her know it didn’t share her estimation of her husband. Didn’t you consider him but a child less than a fortnight prior?

Thou well knowest we wert only speaking of his status as a neophyte deity on the Pantheon, she said, slightly annoyed by the voice turning her own words against her. In all other things we considereth our beloved a stallion.

What stallion would willingly spurn a mare of your beauty and grace? the voice asked, reminding her of all the affection he had robbed her of. If he was the stallion you suppose he is, shouldn’t he be falling over his own hooves to satisfy your reasonable demands?

Hmm… Luna mused, bringing up a hoof to her muzzle as she contemplated the virtues of the voice’s arguments. Perhaps the voice was right after all, her husband was but a youth by the pantheon’s reckoning after all. His stubborn refusal to submit to her desires might be nothing more than juvenile indecision and apprehension. If he only knew how good and wondrous things would be if he yielded to her, she was certain he would choose the right and correct path to be by her side.

“We…” Luna said, taking in a deep breath and closing her eyes.

Yes? “Yes?” both the voice and the Slave King asked her in unison.

Surprised she’s spoken aloud, Luna looked to her husband, before turning away.

“Wife, what is it?” his gravelly voice rumbled.

Better speak up, Luna, the voice prodded. Else he might think you’re up to something.

Surprised he’d caught wind of her thoughts, her cheeks flushed slightly as she looked upon him once more. His normally pallid flesh had taken on a decidedly pinkish tint from the heat of the bubbling water, while his greying mane and beard, heavy with water, slowly dripped into the bath. Opening an eye, he blinked once before looking up at her expectantly. The ever burning verdant flames within them stood as silent sentinels, barring the way, and keeping any from knowing the secrets they so jealously guarded.

His slow rhythmic breathing seemed to fill the bath as he awaited her answer. Sitting upright in the bath, he turned to look her in the eyes once more. The water which had once nearly covered him completely, had receded to his waist revealing his chest and the many scars he carried upon it. Reaching to his left, he grabbed a large towel and wiped the water away from his face, as he wrung the water from his waterlogged beard and mane.

“Wife,” he said from beneath the dampened towel. “Either speak your mind or hold your tongue. I have no patience for indecisive prattle.”

Annoyed by his chastisement, she snorted once. “Then I guess, beloved, it’s finally time to eat your vegetables,” she muttered under her breath.

“What was that?” he asked, putting down the soaked towel.

“Oh nothing, husband,” she cheerfully replied, levitating an even larger towel at the ready for him.

“Harumm,” he grunted, pressing his hands against the lip of the bath as he struggled to pull himself free from the bubbling waters it held.

“Beloved, allow us to aid thee,” she offered, bending her hoof, and offering her knee to her husband as a hoofhold.

Looking up at her gently smiling face, he said nothing as he reached up and grabbed ahold of her proffered leg. Grunting with effort, he trembled as he began pulling himself free from the water. Standing upright, he lightly shook as he attempted to find his balance. Leaning against her, he heavily panted as he stopped to catch his breath.

Wrapping the towel around his shoulders with her magic, she gently moved it up and down along his body as she helped dry him off. Looking at him as he leaned up against her, she gazed at his naked form as she studied all the interesting and unique features that made up his physical form. Her eyes traced over the lean and hardened muscles that connected his arms to his shoulders, before moving on to inspect the numerous scars running across his chest. She counted the ribs protruding from his side, and contemplated running her feathers against them. She wondered if he was as ticklish as her sister was, and how he might react should she decided to discover the truth of the matter for herself.

She felt the warmth of his body against her and the steady thrum of what some might consider his heart but knew was his magic, she contentedly sighed. Together like this, alone in the bath, it was as if they were all alone in the world, with nopony to disturb them. Wishing to be closer to him, she drew her wing around his waist and pressed him tightly against her barrel. Draping her ethereal mane around his shoulder, and wrapping her flowing tail over his legs, she eagerly pressed against him.

Trapped betwixt his wife’s magical mane, winsome wings, and troublesome tail, the Slave King released a muted sigh of exasperation. “Wife,” he mutedly said, his words partially muffled by her shimmering mane.

“Yes, beloved?” she innocently asked, turning her head towards him.

Raising his hand, he parted her mane so he could see her face. “I fear I’ve gotten your coat all wet,” he continued, blowing away a few stray strands of her hair from his eyes.

Unprepared for his nonchalant tone, she released a melodious laugh. “Oh, beloved,” she tittered, pressing him against her even tighter with her wing lest some evil force might snatch him away from her protective embrace. “We art delighted to be of some small use to thee, even if thou hast seeneth fit to maketh us naught but thine towel.”

“And if the servants see us like this?” he dourly asked, failing to find things as humorous as she had apparently had.

Moving her mane away from his face, she drew her muzzle close to him. “Then let them see, beloved,” she teased, playfully sticking out her tongue at him before slowly drawing it across his right cheek and giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Mmm, we find thy salty flavor to be quite to our liking.”

Shocked at such forward unprovoked behavior, he rubbed the back of his hand against his cheek to wipe away the slimy trail of saliva she’d left behind as a memento. “Wife, hand me my trousers,” he grumbled, annoyed by how the sensation of her wide soft tongue against his face had made him feel.

Feeling his magic lapping against hers, she was tempted to push him farther, but decided against it. A little teasing was all well and good, but she didn’t want him to begin resenting her. Not when she was still beginning to earn her husband’s trust. Levitating the threadbare pants before him, she waited until he’d placed both feet inside the open holes. Slowly pulling them up, she used the opportunity to caress his legs with her magic until they were properly secured around his waist. Giving her a sour look, he shook his head in disapproval at her antics and pointed to his shirt. Releasing him from her mane and tail, she lifted the shirt over his head, and slowly pulled it down to cover his remaining nakedness.

“Art thou ready to leave thy bath?” she asked, pointing her horn towards the exit.

“Indubitably,” he replied, leaning against her as he tried moving towards the large brass door. Putting pressure on his left foot, his eyes went wide in surprise when he felt his leg buckling under the unsupported weight.

Struggling to keep upright, he attempted to compensate by tightening his grip on Luna’s slick, damp coat, before losing his grasp on the wet, slippery hair. With nothing keeping him upright, he found himself falling forward to meet the rapidly approaching ground. Raising his arms to brace himself against the stone rushing up to meet him, he closed his eyes and waited to meet his fate.

When he felt nothing, he opened his eyes and saw that he was but a hair’s breadth away from his face meeting with the unyielding stone below. Taking a moment to process what had just happened, he felt his wife’s magic holding him aloft. Looking to his left, he saw her dark blue leg and tilted his head up to look her in the eye.

“My thanks, wife,” he said, pushing against the ground to raise himself upright.

“Beloved, we woulds’t never allow to thee to come to the slightest of harm,” she promised, slowly raising him up before turning him on his back to face her. Lowering her muzzle to meet his face, she lightly nuzzled him.

Turning his head away from her gentle nuzzles, he sighed. “Wife, why do you persist with such,” he grumbled, trying to look intimidating and failing spectacularly to do so.

Seeing his frown, she smiled and kissed him on his nose once more. Lifting him up with her magic, she placed him on her back behind her wings. Moving towards the large brass doors, she placed her horn against them.

“Wife, what are you doing?” he asked, reaching out with his metal hand. “You well know the door will only open at my touch.”

“Beloved, allow us to serve thee,” she implored, looking at him with her sapphire eyes.

“Very well,” he agreed, lowering his cold metal hand against her warm silken coat.

Reaching out with his own magic, he found hers waiting for him in the dark. Briefly he touched his to hers, and could feel the need, the desire to be one urging him, imploring him to yield to its seductive charms. Sighing once more, he released his divinity into her waiting horn. Intermingling together, their combined magic and divinity waxed together, releasing the magic seal that barred any from passing through its unyielding brass gates.

Having secured their passage through the impenetrable gates together, she walked through the seemingly impermeable metal. But instead of unyielding brass, the metal flowed and rippled like quicksilver, allowing them to leave the Slave King’s bathhouse. Now free of the steamy bath, the cool air flowing through the winding, drafty corridors of the ruined palace blew across her wet coat, causing her to involuntarily shiver. Feeling her discomfort, he began running his hands along her sides, removing the water trapped in her coat.

“Beloved, we appreciate thee for thy kindness,” she said, pausing to thank him.

“You aided me, I’m aiding you,” he replied, rubbing his hand against her damp coat, trying to free as much water as he could. “I suppose that’s what married couples do.”

“Yes, beloved, it is,” she agreed, continuing their journey back to their shared quarters in silence together.

She felt her soul grow giddy and heart grow light at his words. They were the first positive words he’d spoken to her regarding their marriage. Before she’d been worried, that perhaps he’d forsake her once he was strong enough to walk unaided. But now his words had brought a balm to her anxious heart. Now that he’d admitted a fondness for her, she was certain he would remain by her side even after this crisis had passed them by.

He truly loves me! she silently exalted, delighted that her husband was finally warming up to her. Feeling pleased with her lonely heart's victory over his stony heart, she walked through the empty corridors of their palace with a delighted smile on her muzzle.

Approaching the stone doors to their bedchamber, she opened them and walked inside. With her magic, she placed him down on their bed. Turning towards her brush, she picked it up, and looked to the mirror so she might tend to her unkempt coat, and tangled tail and mane. Looking to the wall above the stone bureau that held all her assorted combs and brushes, she saw to her displeasure only the dusty outline of where the mirror had once been. Looking down at her hooves, she saw the shattered remnants of the darkened glass that had once served as their mirror.

“Confound it,” she grumbled, unhappy she no longer had anyway to see if she was properly brushing her mane or not.

“Wife, my apologies about the mirror,” he said, sensing her umbrage at the inconvenience of only having a broken mirror to groom with.

“Beloved, tis a small matter for a mare of our talents to repair yonder mirror,” she said, drawing magic into her horn. “We shalt both swiftly and with ease repair that which hast been broken. Then we shalt see to the untangling of all the unseemly snarls which hath found unwelcome purchase within our mane.”

“If it pleases you, wife,” the Slave King replied from their bed.

Eager to show him her skill with repairing magical artifacts, in the hopes of gaining his confidence in assisting him in his workshop, Luna released her magic into each of the glass shards before her. Her magic ebbed and flowed over each one, trying to find some influence so she could begin the reconstruction process. However every time she thought she’d found the severed threads of creation that lay dormant within the shards of broken glass, she found the matrix she was forming, unraveling and becoming undone.

Undeterred by her initial failures, she began anew and reattempted to make whole that which had been torn asunder. But each time was no different, every attempt was the same, abject failure. At first she though the process of its creation had made the broken mirror resistant to certain flavors or schools of magic. At first she tried alteration, but her elegant and skillful matrix of water unraveled before she was even half done. Deciding elegance wasn’t the answer she tried using the brute force of earthen abjuration and tried unbreaking the mirror to make it whole, but found her magic stymied once more by the stubborn shards.

Changing tactics, she tried airy divination to scry the mirror’s secrets so she could determine what was causing her spells to fail, but found her sight as cloudy and black as the dark mirror had once been. Since the broken shards were being so uncooperative, she tried using evocation to make the shards weld themselves back together with a fiery enchantment, but that too was stymied by some unseen force. Finally deciding that if she was unable to repair the mirror she could at least replace it, she attempted conjuration from pure silvery moonlight.

Her magic ran along the broken shards of glass, touching each of the invisible severed threads that had once held the mirror together unshattered and whole. Tapping into the aether, her power began forming the void into an exact duplicate of the once unbroken mirror. Levitating it before her, she held it aloft as she laughed with excitement at having finally defeated the stubborn and unyielding mirror.

“Dids’t thou not see it, beloved!” she whooped, jubilant at her success and thrilled that she could share it with the one she loved. Levitating the carbon copy before him, she held it aloft for him to inspect, so that he might praise her skill and hooftiwork.

“A most artful display, wife,” he said, examining the copy. Running his thumb across his chin, he nodded approvingly. “It’s quite a masterful forgery.”

Forgery!” she shouted, incensed that he had found the slightest fault with her magical skill. “We shalt let thee know, husband, yonder mirror is no mere forgery, but absolute perfection in all things.”

“Perfection it may be, but a forgery all the same,” he disagreed, refusing to back down.

“Husband,” she huffed, annoyed that somepony with less than five centuries of experience thought to critique her skill. “We shalt let thee know, by all likelihood we hadst mastered all known magics before thy realm hadst come to be.”

Amused by her outburst and consternation, he gave her cheeky grin. “Like most forgeries, you’ll find that yours is also lacking,” he said, chuckling at her indignation. Reaching out to touch the mirror, he placed a finger against its shimmering surface, causing it to shatter into tiny pieces. “See, the mirror had all the substance of starlight.”

“We, I…” Luna stammered, looking in disbelief at the magical remnants of the now dissipating mirror. Snorting once in fury, she stamped her hoof as her blue coat took on a decidedly red tint as she trembled in rage. “Thou… thou… thou insufferable stallion!”

Turning her back to him, she shook with anger as her tears threatened to break the promise that she’d made to herself. No more tears, Luna, only strength, she chanted to herself over and over, as she struggled to keep her tears in check. She had been so happy before. She’d only wanted to share her triumph, this small victory with her husband, the one who’d she thought might love her. But instead of celebrating with her, he’d been cruel and had callously pierced her heart with his cold unfeeling words of mockery and derision.

After his earlier words, she’d been so sure he loved her, but now she felt unsure and heartbroken. Welling up within the core of her being, she felt the desire to summon all her strength and force her uncaring, cold, ungrateful wretch of a husband to grovel before her hooves and confess to her how great she truly was. How powerful and majestic her magic was beyond his and all others. To beg her for forgiveness and pledge his undying love and loyalty to her as her husband. To hold her, to love her, and finally become hers in all things.

Thoughts of unleashing her hot and terrible fury upon him consumed her thoughts as she felt her side burning even hotter. Looking down at her flank, she saw to her annoyance a tiny cut threatening to bleed and stain her otherwise immaculate coat crimson. “Troublesome glass,” she darkly murmured, ignoring her anger towards her husband for a moment as she flawlessly mended herself to perfection with her unquestionably powerful magic. When she was done, she inspected where the wound had once been, and satisfied that not even a scar remained to mar her beauteous form, returned all her thoughts to her husband, the Slave King.

We shall show him our true power! she seethed, envisioning how she would humble her proud stallion, so she might remake him into somepony more worthy of being married to somepony of her magnificence. Yes, before the night was through he would tremble at her might, not only her husband but everypony else within their shared realms. But seeing as her darling husband was still convalescing from his unfortunate ailment, she would have to crown herself as his dowager queen, and exact oaths of fealty from their subjects, or rather her subjects.

Then with her husband and subject’s sworn assurances of worship, devotion, and fealty to her, she would see to bringing those ingrates back in Equestria to heel. If they resisted, she would form her armies and rain down the rightful chastisement of her displeasure upon them all. She was sure that sister dearest would try to stop her along the way, but with her husband’s power at her beck and call she was sure she could easily humble even the overly proud sun, and force her to finally admit who the better mare truly was.

With Celestia by her side, she could easily make the remainder of the Pantheon elect her as their rightful head, or better yet, make her their Queen of the Night and Empress of all Creation. Once crowned she would be worshiped by everypony and be beloved by all as was her due. Even the Unmentionable One in the Pit would tremble before her, and worship at her hooves as his dark and terrible goddess.

Feeling sure of the success of her newly hatched plan to subdue all creation beneath her iron hoof, she felt the darkness she had long spurned creeping into her heart. She had but to welcome it within her and its power would be hers to command. Looking down at the broken shards of glass beneath her hooves, she narrowed her eyes and returned her thoughts to her beloved husband.

First things, first, she darkly thought, as her nethers heated up at the plans she had for him. Welcoming the darkness within her, she salivated in anticipation of when she could finally claim the rightful prize which had been so long denied to her. If thou still refuseth to loveth us as thou shoulds’t, then we shalt render thee to pieces, and make thee anew, dearest husband.

We shalt take thee regardless of thy stubborn, foalish desires, beloved, she declared, fantasizing about how the first of their many duets in singing the song of creation would finally come to pass.

We shalt, render thee without power and utterly at our mercy, beloved, she boasted, relishing the victory she would soon have over her stubborn husband, We shalt take thee time and time again, until thy adamant nays shalt become exuberant yeas.

Thou shalt perform for our pleasure, husband, she silently laughed, enthralled by the darkness that had nearly overwhelmed her. We shall thoroughly enjoy humbling thee, beloved, and…

She felt his hand resting on her shoulder, and turned to ponce upon him to make him her newest plaything. Tensing her muscles, she felt the darkness within and knew she was nearly ready to devour her unwitting prey. But before she could release upon him all the lascivious unseemly desires of her pent up lusts upon him, she heard him utter a single word.

“Arcanum,” he said, moving her muzzle to meet his burning eyes.

“Arcanum?” she asked, wondering what the magical metal had to do with her lust for her unwitting husband or her immediate plans for their upcoming unbridled passionate trysts together.

“It was the arcanum you know, it resists all magic,” he explained, running his hand along her shoulder and along her back.

“We knowest of arcanum and all its vaunted secrets,” she hissed, annoyed that a foal thought to lecture somepony as well versed in magical lore as she in anything related to magic.

“Then you know why you made a forgery and not a copy,” he said, gazing into her darkened eyes.

She starred at the flickering flames for a moment, but the verdant fire within revealed nothing. The crown he always wore was nearly pure arcanum. Drawing her face close to his, she decided to relieve him of it. As her subject he had no need of a crown. Besides she wanted to see the look on his face when she finally claimed him as hers.

Drawing on her magic she tried to lift the crown from up off his head, but found it kept shedding her magic’s hold. Time and again she tried, but continued to fail. Sensing her frustration, the Slave King lifted his metal hand and wrapped it around her horn, disrupting her magic’s flow.

“Wife,” he said, his normally rough voice sounding noticeably softer. “Let me help you.”

“Help me?” she asked, bewildered by his desire to assist her in his own downfall and ruin.

“After all, it’s what married couples do,” he said, releasing her horn from his arcanum clad hand and sending his magic coursing into her horn.

She felt heady as his divinity ran along the groves of her horn. His magic, all of it, was there, free for the taking. All she had to do was grab hold of it and she could easily have her way with him. The lust clouding her mind and darkness weighing down her soul urged her to do it, to possess him, to use him however she saw fit. But the moment she released her magic to join with his and felt his divinity within her anew, she remembered the oaths she’d made and the love she professed for him.

The memory of her wedding vows, but more importantly the vow she’d made to him the night the curse had struck him down, made her eyes well up tears. She’d sworn to etch upon her heart the promise to be a loving and devoted wife to her husband, and now she’d nearly broken that promise in the vilest way. Laying back her ears she closed her eyes and shook as she silently sobbed, ashamed at what she’d nearly done to the one she sworn to love.

“Wife, there’s no shame in needing a little help now and again,” he said, raising her lowered muzzle to meet his gaze. “You helped show me that.”

Looking up in shock at her husband’s kind words, she could scarcely believe what she’d heard. Could this be the selfsame cold unfeeling stallion she’d married?

“Wife, let us finish together what you began alone,” he said, offering her small smile.

Nodding in agreement, she eagerly embraced his magic and mingled her divinity together with his. Contentedly sighing and finally at peace, she waited for her husband to take the lead.

“Remember with arcanum to grasp the impurities within,” he instructed, showing her how to grab hold of the miscellaneous bits of iron and other metallic impurities that resided within his crown. “Now do it on your own.”

When he withdrew his magic from hers, she felt the pall of guilt looming over her. But she was determined to show him that she had engraved his lesson on her heart and within her soul. Reaching out with her magic, she found the impurities and easily lifted the heavy crown from his head.

“Wife, you have done what few others could,” he congratulated her, looking into her sparkling eyes. “You have moved arcanum with your magic.”

“Thou hast taught us well, beloved,” she replied, still feeling downcast about her earlier wicked thoughts. Her heart was still in turmoil, and beneath her tail she felt a ravenous ever growing hunger burning within.

Sensing her unhappiness, he gestured towards their bed. “Wife, perhaps you deserve a reward for your remarkable deed,” he said, moving towards it.

“Truly?” she asked in wonderment, scarcely able to contain her joy. “Husband, thou woulds’t willingly lay with us, thy wife?”

“Truly,” he agreed, sitting down upon bed. “After all, this is something you can’t really do for yourself.”

“We coulds’t for ourself, beloved, shoulds’t thou still feel reticent towards us,” she offered, feeling her heart beating hard in anticipation at his hand’s tender touch. “Though tis truly better to be with another, but we cans’t tend to our own needs if need be.”

“Nonsense,” he disagreed, patting a space on the bed beside him. “What kind of husband would I be, if I couldn’t do this simple task for my wife when she needed it?”

Deciding that if her beloved truly wanted her, she wouldn’t fight it, she laid down beside him as the fire burning within her became a furnace. “Oh, my love,” she happily cooed, wondering what kind of lover her husband might be. “Thou hast truly transmuted all mine sorrows into joy.”

“Wife, it’s been awhile for me,” he admitted, placing her head on his lap. “I hope you will forgive me if I do anything wrong or get too rough.”

“Nay, mine love,” she said, looking up at him with stars in her eyes. The stallion before her was consuming all her thoughts, and should their time together last but a moment, it would be sufficient to quench all fires burning within her. And was bound and determined that even if she should never know another moment such as this, its memory would sustain her a thousand years if need be.

“Then, wife, let us begin,” he said, spreading out her mane.

“Dost thou possess a preference, mine love?” she asked, wondering how he might choose to consummate their union for the first time.

“Well, wife, I thought I’d start at your ears and work my way down,” he offered, gently grabbing them with his fingers.

At their touch, she quivered with delight, and felt herself go limp as his nimble fingers worked on the tips of her ears, slowly and gently making their way down to her mane. If this is what his hands could do to ears she trembled at the thought of them working her teats or dare she say it the hidden bounty beneath her tail. Furiously blushing at the lusty thoughts of her husband having his way with her body, she sighed as she felt the teeth of her comb running through her mane.

“Verily, mine love,” she sighed, enjoying the feeling of the comb through her mane.

He worked quickly, almost as if he was as eager as she was to begin singing their songs of love in jubilation and exultation, joining together in harmony and finally becoming one with each other. As he worked her mane, she sighed in pleasure as her husband groomed her. One by one, the comb found each snarl hidden within her luxurious mane and made short work of troublesome beasts. Moving on to her coat, he began briskly brushing the matted fur, until it was once again silky smooth and shining like the full moon. With eyes closed, she tittered when the brush ran over her cutie mark, imagining her lover leaving a mark or two of his own upon her coat before they were through.

“Husband, we loveth thee so much,” she purred, when she felt him lightly pulling on her tail as he ran the comb through its unruly wild strands. “We art thine, and thine alone forevermore, beloved.”

“Wife, you know a simple thank you would have sufficed,” he said, patting her side. “Judging by your happy sighs, I guess you really enjoyed me grooming you.”

“Grooming us?” she replied in disbelief, stunned that he had no intention of ever relieving her of the burning inferno he’d ignited within her. “Surely thou jest, mine love?”

“No, wife,” he replied, perplexed by her question. “Proper hair care is no laughing matter in the South, due to the sand fleas. If you ever get a colony of them in in your coat or mane, the only cure is shaving yourself bare.

“Shaving thyself bare, yuck,” she said, sticking out her tongue in disgust at the thought and how ridiculous she might appear without nary a strand of hair upon her coat, or solitary lock to be found amongst her mane or tail. “But surely thou intendest to claim from thy wife thy rightful due? Believeth us, we hast naught nor nary an objection in repaying thee for thy multitude of kindnesses towards us. So come, beloved, and sample thy wife’s freely given and most assuredly succulent and sweet fruits.”

Understanding her meaning he shook his head. “Wife, my apologies if you thought my offer to groom you was something else,” he said, drawing away from her wanton, lust filled eyes. “I meant to groom you, nothing more.”

“Thou agreed to lay with us!” she objected, reminding him that he had said he would indeed lay with her.

“Wife, I meant beside you, not inside you,” he replied, feeling the air within their bedchamber beginning to grow uncomfortably warm and stuffy.

“Thou, wicked tease!” she accused, feeling enraged that he thought to excuse his misdeeds without answering for them. “Thou art a cad of the worse sort, inflaming our passions and then callously refusing to answer for the mistreatment of thy wife's tender feelings. Husband, we demandeth our due.”

Hearing her demands, the verdant flames in his eyes flared to life, releasing the latent magic that had so far lain dormant within him. Raising up off the bed, he stood at his full height and towered over her prone form. The reformed brands on his shoulders, bearing her cutie mark filled with the awesome power of the earth, as did all the scars crisscrossing his back and chest. Pointing a metal finger accusingly at her, he trembled with fury.

“Wife, is that what I am to you?” he demanded, shaking as his unbridled rage threatened to consume him. “Some whore to slate your libido or prostitute to quench your lust? If so, take your bits to the flesh market and get your fill there.”

“Nay, beloved,” she implored, her libido all but forgotten as she lay cowering before him. “Forgive us, we wert impatient with thee.”

“Forgive you?” he shouted, struggling to stay standing. “I should… Ack!”

Before he could finish speaking, he collapsed onto the bed beside her.

“Beloved!” she cried out in alarm, rushing to his side. “We art so sorry!”

“My draught,” he weakly said, pointing towards the long forgotten stone bureau.

“Of course, mine love,” she agreed, rushing to fetch him the half full bottle containing the Draught of Renewal.

Pressing the bottle to his lips, she upended it, getting nearly as much over the bed as she did down his gullet. Muttering, “Mine love, forgive me,” over and over, she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw some color returning to his pale face.

Weakly grabbing her neck, he shook a metal finger at her. “Wife, don’t ever do that again,” he chastised her, coughing up a bit of the hastily drunk draught. “I played the whore once before, and have vowed to never again.”

“We art sorry, beloved,” she replied, truly remorseful that she’d harmed him so. “We thought thou wert only being selfish and unkind. Share this burden with us so we mayest understand thy sorrow.”

“I don’t know if I should,” he murmured, mulling over his options in his mind. “You might be no truer than the rest.”

“We shalt be true to thee, beloved, we so swear it, by the moot if need be,” she promised.

“They swore the same,” he said, sighing as the memories of happier times came rushing back to him. “They promised to be true, and swore they loved me. I was a fool to ever believe them.”

“Beloved, give us all thy crushing burdens and thy mountainous sorrows, and we swear to thee thou shalt know only happiness and joy forevermore,” she pledged, nuzzling him gently, hoping to coax him into finally sharing himself with her.

“Wife, I might have been happy loving them, and forgetting,” he continued, rubbing the deep scar placed where his heart had once beat before.

“Forgetting what, mine love?” she implored, offering him a double portion of her divinity to strengthen him. “What woulds’t thou forget? Whom woulds’t thou forget?”

“You look so much like her, you know,” he murmured, reaching out to touch her muzzle.

“Please, beloved, tell me who it was?” she nearly begged, cradling his head in her hooves.

Looking up at the ceiling overhead, he weakly raised up his hand as if he was grasping at some unseen phantom just out of reach. “Little Bleu…” he murmured as his eyes rolled back in his head and lost all consciousness.

“A little blue what?” she cried, desperate to finally know what is was that had haunted him so.

But he remained silent as the tomb, for he had no more words to share. Alone and drift in the sea of oblivion, the Slave King remained silent, content to keep his secrets his for at least a little while longer. The Mistress of Dreams, distraught at being so close yet so far from knowing the truth, held him in her hooves as she called out to the one who she knew she could call friend in this dreary place. “Scourge,” she whimpered, as tears of worry unchecked by pride freely flowed down her cheeks. Pressing her horn against the gem affixed beside their bed, she cried out. Thy master needeth thee, we needeth thee. Friend, we beseech thee, come to our aid!

Author's Note

Thank you gentlereader for reading chapter eleven of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, as always comments are appreciated.

Once again I find myself apologizing for such a long stretch between chapters. With that being said, It's now November, and that means it's NANO month. Usually I should be done with my book by now, and working well on the way to the next one, but between various excuses such as working with RPG MAKER, screwing around with a plethora of games on STEAM, and various other miscellaneous unnecessary activities, I find myself behind once again. So today I'm issuing a challenge to myself, in honor of NANO, to finish this book by the end of the month and immediately begin work on the third and exciting book concluding the Book of Water. I know I might fail, but I think its good to have goals even if you invariably fail them.

With that out of the way, once again I profusely apologize for having made you wait so long for such a pivotal chapter, and pledge to do better in the future.

Celestia seems to have big plans in the works for everypony, the Slave King especially. Will her missive be R.S.V.P.'d or simply ignored and forgotten? We can only wait and see. But i appears she's missing her sister more then she thought she might. Perhaps if her first missive is a bust she might reconsider sending the next on the scented paper. Maybe the Slave King's frightful dream from chapter One was less a nightmare and more a premonition of things to come.

Sombra and Topaz what an odd pair. Who will he betray in the end? Second or Topaz, but most important of all, himself? Attending the gala this year will surely be an event not to miss, or will it? Should he choose poorly, it will surely be Sombra's last.

The Slave King and Luna what a quarrelsome and tumultuous pair, where one is hot the other is cold.
While she is winsome and quite the flirt, he's quite abrasive and content to leave her in the dirt
With their confrontation with each other finally coming to head, will the Salve King finally trust her with his secrets, or will he continue keeping them close to his breast, unshared and unspoken with anyone.

More and more, the Mistress of the Night seems to be falling to the temptations of the mysterious voice. But the question is this, will she succumb or will she be pushed. Though she tries hard to stay true to her ideals, the Slave King isn't making it very easy for her to stay on the straight and narrow path. It appears its only a matter of when and where rather then if. We can only wonder what the Slave King might do if he knew she was being afflicted so gravely. Would he stand by his wife, or leave her to her growing madness and the crows?

Alas only time will tell, if this tale will end in bittersweet tears for everyone involved, or if there is the slightest possibility of a heartwarming and happy end.

Find out the answers to these questions and more, in the next exciting chapter of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, coming soon to computer near you!

Once again, gentlereader, thank you for reading and all your kind words and support. You make writing worthwhile. Until next time!

Chapter 13: The Unknown Wayfarer, His Legend Begins

The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter

A Story by TalonMach5

Chapter 13: The Unknown Wayfarer, His Legend Begins

She woke up somewhat groggy, slumped against a large rock with sand in her beak, and suffering from a pounding headache. Spitting some sand from her mouth, she tried to rub the remainder away with her sleeve but found her arms tied tightly behind her. Flexing her muscles, she tried working the knots loose but found all her struggles were simply making the knots that much tighter. She tried opening her wings, but found them pinned by her arms, and looking down saw her feet were also tied up with a thick length of rope.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw a large ship anchored in the cove behind her. The slavers, she bitterly thought, angry at herself for being discovered and getting caught in the first place. Fortunately, they had only tied her up instead of using chains to restrain her. Rope was something she could deal with fairly easily, but unyielding cold iron was another matter altogether.

Taking a deep breath, she decided to fall back on her training and assess her situation before making any further attempts to break free. Looking down, she saw that somefeather had removed her arcanum long knife and sword belt. She hadn’t expected to find the knife still in its sheath, but the loss of the belt was a blow to her plans to escape. Hidden on the sheath, she had a smaller knife stowed away for situations just like this.

With her primary means of breaking loose missing, she looked for her satchel, but saw that it too was missing. She supposed a satchel full of bits was too tempting to her captures to leave behind, not that she minded losing the bits, since she could always get more, but it was the other items it held that she could sorely use right now. Her flint and steel, vial of feather oil, and talon file. She was fairly certain that either the flint or file could’ve eventually cut through the ropes binding her, or if that failed the feather oil might have made her bonds slippery enough to escape. But all she had at her disposal was the clothes on her back and the shoes on her feet.

Her master had mentioned once that some of the soldiers in the army sometimes liked to carry a knife in their boots, but she’d never felt comfortable with a blade bouncing against her ankles as she walked, and instead had opted to hide a spare knife in her sheath. But judging that it was her belt and not her shoes that were missing, she’d made the incorrect choice in where to hide it.

So that was that. The only option left to her was magic. With all her other means of escape missing, magic was the only tool she had left. Thankfully she wasn’t unicorn. She was fairly sure that being slavers her captors had access to arcanum horn rings, and without a horn to place it on, they’d assumed she had no latent magic to call upon. An oversight they would soon regret.

Searching her surroundings, she was relieved when she found a fire ley line within reach of her magical grasp. Siphoning the potent energy within her, she smiled when she felt her feathers beginning to heat up. As a member of the feathered folk tribe, manipulating fire based magic was almost second nature, but as her smoking clothes could attest, wasn’t without its drawbacks. These were the only clothes she had, and should they burn to cinders, she’d have to face the fierce heat of the day unprotected by anything.

Working quickly, she directed the fire running through her feathers towards the rope wrapped around her arms and wrist. With a little luck, the rope would be burned through before her clothes had. She could smell the rope burning now, but was puzzled that even after a minute or so of applying fire to her bonds, they were as strong as ever. Wondering what was wrong with her magic, she drew in a few deep breaths as she focused her magic within diaphragm for a few minutes.

Slowly building up the intensity of the fire in her lungs, she took one last deep breath, before blowing a steady flame from her beak at the rope tied around her ankles. The flames intensity blinded her for a moment, but was disappointed when she saw that though she’d badly scorched her pants, the ropes had held fast. She was dismayed that her fire hadn’t even managed to scorch the rope’s fibers.

Arcanum… she groused, knowing that for at least the time being she was stuck here.

Arcanum laced rope, strong enough to hold a full grown minotaur, as magically resistant as her knife, and so soft and supple that a binding a pegasi’s wings to ground them wouldn’t cause any lasting damage. She supposed it was because of her wings. Her captors must have felt she was a flight risk and didn’t want to take any chances in having her escaping.

Struggling against her bonds so she could sit upright, she looked up when she felt a large shadow covering her.

Standing above her, were three of her captors. The first was a large, burly, green coated minotaur, carrying an even larger cutlass at his hip. The second, was a winsome looking, purple seapony mare, whose left eye patch and permanent sneer belied that she had anything in common with a feather like Dame Squall. Lastly, there was a greasy looking, unkempt yellow unicorn, whose wide girth and stubby muzzle suggested he was more pig then pony.

Judging by the tricorne hat perched on his head, she supposed that the unicorn was leader or captain of this loathsome and motley crew. She saw her long knife in the seapony’s fin, and sword belt at her hip, and knew which of the three had managed to knock her out. The unicorn took a step forward and levitated her satchel above her with his magic, before upending it in front of her.

“Filly, what’s your name?” the unicorn asked, prodding at the pile of bits and other miscellaneous items with his hoof.

Studying them for a moment, Aria briefly considered evoking her father’s name. Here in the heart of his territory, only a fool would accost one of his servants. But having left him and his service as she had, she had no desire to come crawling back to him now. Still feeling angry at him for all the years of neglect, she decided that she would save herself without any need of his help.

“Ember, she lied, glaring up at them defiantly. “I’m a justicar, and demand that you release me at once.”

“A beastfolk justicar?” the seapony said, derisively rolling her eyes at their prisoner. “What bosh, everypony knows that outside the enclave, there’s no beastfolk justicars.”

“Listen, missy, unless you tell us who you really are, why you’re here, and what you know,” the unicorn sternly warned. “We’re going to have a problem on our hooves.”

“I already told you once before,” she repeated, feeling a fire growing in her gut. “I’m a justicar, and when everyfeather finds out what you’ve done here, being punished for slave smuggling will be the least of your worries.”

“She knows too much,” the minotaur said, resting his hand on his cutlass’ hilt. “Justicar or not, she has to die."

“You think that will save you?” she continued, hoping to bluff her way to freedom. “We already found you, you’ll never escape us with either your payment or cargo intact.”

“Captain,” the seapony said, running her fin along the knife’s edge. “You think the runner got nabbed?”

“Not likely,” the minotaur replied, rubbing his thumb over his sword’s hilt. “The city’s over an hour away by wing.”

“I say we kill her now, and be done with it,” the seapony said, pointing the long knife at her. “We bury the body, and no one will discover it until we’ve long gone.”

“But if we get discovered…” the unicorn worriedly replied. “I’ve heard the rumors about the Slave King’s fearsome temper.”

“Then if it worries you so, let me go and turn yourselves in,” Aria suggested, looking the stallion in the eye.

“Not likely, Red,” the seapony said, looking thoughtfully at the knife she held in her fin.

“Then I hope you enjoy suffering,” Aria replied, full of false bravado. “For when you’re discovered, you’ll find out the truth of those dark rumors for yourselves firsthand.”

The minotaur snorted once, grabbed Aria by the head, and forced her to look him in the eye. “Justicar, they’ll have to catch us first,” he said, pushing her roughly against the large stone at her back. Then turning to the unicorn he pointed to their ship anchored in the tiny cove. “Captain, let’s secure her in the hold for now, and then once we’ve gotten our bits, I say we sail for a few leagues and get rid of her in the Western Sea.”

The unicorn nodded thoughtfully for a moment, his bosun’s plan had merit. Since he didn’t want to kill the justicar just yet, putting her someplace nice and secure seemed like their best option for now. After all, if they needed to use her as a bargaining chip they could easily offer her life in exchange for letting them go. If not, they could always get rid of her once their business here was concluded.

“Good idea, Mr. Gorehorn,” the captain said, gathering the fallen bits back into Aria’s stolen satchel. “Put her into one of the empty cages for now. Once we’ve unloaded the merchandise, have a few of the stallions bring her onto the ship and down into the hold.”

When she heard their plans for her, Aria’s blood ran cold. Once she was on the ship, she was certain the slavers would use irons and not rope to bind her, and she’d have no hope of escaping them with her life. Deciding she had no other choice, she tapped into the fire ley line in the hopes of subduing her captors. Taking a few deep breaths, she felt the potent red magic filling her with its power. Soon, she’d have enough within her to give these three slaver scum a very bad day.

Feeling her magical stores nearly at their peak, she was about to open her mouth and gives these thugs a face full of fire to contend with, when the seapony slammed the butt of her long knife into the stomach, knocking the wind out of her.

“Nice try, justicar, but magic’s not allowed,” the seapony slaver said with a malicious smirk. Giving her wicked grin, she held the blade up to her face. “This is a nice knife, Red. I can’t wait to find out exactly how sharp it is.”

But before Aria could reply, the seapony slammed the hilt against her head. With a slight gasp, she slumped forward as she fought to stay conscious. With her eyes struggling to stay open, the last thing she heard before slipping into blissful oblivion were the words, “Sweet dreams, Red. I hope you enjoy sleeping with the fishes.”

*****

Walking through the long, straight corridor that ran through the center of the great keep, the griffon walked with a purpose. The soft padfalls of his paws hitting the ground were muffled by the rich ornately woven carpet beneath him. Though he considered himself a careful feather and wished he had more time to prepare, an opportunity this good didn’t hatch every day.

Fortune had smiled down on his black wings and silvery pinfeathers, offering him a golden opportunity to cover his tracks, all he needed was someone to take the fall for him in case things went south, and he’d be right as rain. Pausing to look at the bejeweled frieze adorning the wall, there it showed the Maelstrom atop the highest peak found amongst Darkpaw’s Spine. At her talons, the crests of all the great clans, both former and current were present.

Counting the crests, he saw that many of those depicted were snuffed out or broken like a chick’s shell. Take the Golden Dawn Clan for instance. Once not long ago they were considered a great power, but in less than four generations their wind had ceased to be. Now considered a broken clan, the few remaining forgotten members of the once great clan eked out a living in the wilderness of the Hinterlands of Autumn.

It was a grim reminder of the price of one’s ambition outstripping their reach. If he didn’t want his clan to suffer a similar fate, this plan needed to succeed. Abandoning the frieze, he resumed his way to the great library of the Golden Eyrie. The early morning’s light was beginning to trickle through the high arched windows to his left. If he knew his fellow councilor, Elrik, the Master of Mediation, had probably been hard at work all night crafting the preliminary legal treatise that would serve as the foundation of Lady Zephyr’s lawsuit against Celestia, Triton, and the Slave King.

Of course this soon the document was sure to be full of spelling errors, miswording’s, and contradictions. But correcting those flaws, was why the domain was planning on securing the services of the greatest lawyers and legal minds in Autumn to make their case before the Pantheon. Therefore, ensuring that the treatise reached the great Ziggurat of Knowledge in Autumn in secret was of the utmost importance. However it would be a real shame if the courier of said treatise was waylaid on the journey, and the document fell into the wrong talons.

Truly, it would be shame if the waylaid courier ended up being killed in the process, and if the courier just happened to be somefeather inconvenient to his agenda. Somefeather like say Dawson, Lady Zephyr’s half breed brat. Truly the wilds and the Hinterlands of Autumn could be a dangerous place for the inexperienced or unprepared. With so many vile pony slavers, bandits, wildlings, and other assorted troublemakers, somefeather could easily go missing if they made a misstep.

But the treatise was still being written, and until he and his colleague had signed and affixed their seals, it couldn’t be delivered to anyfeather. So he was quite certain that young Dawson was quite safe from being waylaid far from the protection of the city or his dear mother. Turning a corner, he saw the great oak doors that lead to the library. Placing his ear to it, he heard Elrik muted voice muttering something or other.

Ah, perfect, he said to himself, rubbing his talons together in glee. I’m sure, that the good councilor has been working nonstop all night.

Opening the door, he saw Elrik hunched over a desk pouring over several thick volumes of legal texts, as he scratched out notes on a sheet of parchment. The candles nearby had nearly melted all the way down to their holder, beside the desk were two empty bottles and a third well on its way to joining its brethren. Opposite of the talon that held his quill, he had a half empty goblet of wine.

Although a greatly respected member of the council, the Master of Mediation wasn’t without his faults. One of which was his love of drink and spirits. Judging by his bloodshot eyes and reddened beak, the good councilor had hit the bottle hard to help see him through the night. Such dedication was admirable, but as such would also be his downfall. It was almost too easy, he simply had to act and his plan would succeed.

“A bit early in the morning to be drinking, isn't it, Elrik?” he asked, smirking at the discomfort his voice was causing him. “Don’t you think?”

“Ugh, what do you want, Johan,” Elrik groaned, looking up from his book top give him a bleary eyed look of annoyance.

“Just seeing how things are progressing with the treatise,” he replied in a chipper tone, hoping to annoy him even further.

“Well it’s still a bit of a mess, but should be enough to give the lawyers something to work with,” Elrik answered, drinking heavily from his goblet.

“I’d like to read it over myself,” Johan said, reaching out for the treatise with his talon.

“Well I’m still working on some of the wording,” he said, licking the edge of his drying beak with his tongue.

“I’m sure it will do for now,” Johan said, holding up one of the empty bottles of wine with his talon.

“Here it is, Johan,” Elrik said, offering him the document.

“I think it’s missing something, councilor,” he said, tapping his talon to the bottom of the page.

“What’s that?” Elrik asked with a wide yawn.

“Your signature and seal, of course, councilor,” Johan replied, pointing towards Elrik’s waiting quill and signet ring around his talon.

“But the treatise isn’t ready yet,” he complained, giving Johan a sour look.

“Does it really matter, Elrik?” Johan asked, giving him a flat look of annoyance. “I’m sure what you’ve written so far will be fine. I’ll read it once, sign and add my seal, and give it to Lady Zephyr to approve.”

Elrik shook his head. “Just bring it back once she’s approved it,” he said, defiantly crossing his talons across his chest. “I’ll sign it then.”

“Once you’ve sobered up, am I right?” Johan dryly said, gesturing towards the empty bottles across the desk.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Elrik protested, unwilling to sign a document before its time.

Rolling his eyes at the stubborn griffin, Johan gave the treatise a brief glance, before signing his own name, pouring some wax and pressing his own ring to the page.

“There, will that satisfy you, councilor?” he testily asked, handing the document to his colleague.

“Well, I suppose,” Elrik sleepily drawled, too tired to really put up too much more of fight.

“Then sign it and seal it, so we can dispatch this as quickly as possible,” Johan demanded, making it a point to show his growing impatience with him.

“But what about…” Elrik started, before being interrupted.

“Then you can hammer that out with the lawyers when they get here,” Johan said, rudely cutting him off.

Elrik said nothing further, instead reaching for the remaining nearly empty bottle at his side. Placing it to his beak, he upended its contents into his waiting mouth. Looking at the now empty bottle, he licked his beak once, before placing it beside the others on the desk. Looking down at his goblet, he saw to his disappointment that it too was empty, he’d already drained it dry. Lightly smacking his beak, he looked sadly at the three empty bottles before getting up from his desk. Sighing deeply, he reached for the treatise and begrudgingly picked up his quill. Dipping it once in the inkwell, he signed his name beside Johan’s, and pressed his own seal below it.

“There, are you satisfied?” he asked, annoyed that he’d let himself be bullied into signing before he felt it was fully ready.

Picking up the document, Johan verified that everything was in order, before carefully folding the treatise, and placing it inside his left jacket pocket.

“You will let me know if the Maelstrom is dissatisfied, won’t you?” Elrik weakly asked, as he looked longingly at the empty bottles.

“Sober up, councilor,” Johan chastised him, giving him a look of disgust for his excess. “You smell like a brewery.”

“Ah, ah… yes,” he agreed, catching his balance and holding himself steady with some help from the desk.

“Then I wish you good morning, Councilor Elrik,” he said, giving him a curt nod, before promptly exiting the library with the treatise in tow.

Having secured the lynchpin of his plan with help from his patsy, Johan smiled to himself as hummed a jaunty tune. Soon he would be well on his way to solving one of his long term problems, and with the half breed out of the way, he could focus on eliminating the only witness who could help implicate him to the crimes of smuggling. He only had to set his trap, place the bait, and wait for his prey to take it. Then he could worry about what to do about this fortnight’s falling slavery profits. Heading deeper into the palace, he looked down each side passage he passed, carefully watching to make sure he didn’t miss his quarry.

When he heard the loud, echoing, clumsy footsteps of his half breed target, he smiled. Unlike stalking a fellow griffin, he didn’t have to be subtle or crafty to find him, he simply had to go in the general vicinity, and the fool would come to him. Pulling out the treatise of his satchel, he pretended to read it, while waiting for his mark to fly right into his cleverly laid out trap.

When he saw the young fool, he offered him a cool, dismissive look, before returning to reading the treatise. He could tell by sharp intake of breath the griffin-half took, that he wouldn’t have to do much to convince him to willingly step into his snare.

“Shouldn’t you be in your room, fledgling?” he asked, looking up from the document with a slight sneer. “If I recall correctly, Lady Zephyr rescinded all your privileges into the foreseeable future.”

“I don’t really think my punishment is any of your concern, Johan,” Dawson replied, giving him a flinty look.

“That’s Councilor Johan, you disrespectful, disobedient, embarrassment,” he replied, alluding to the great inconvenience and trouble his running away had caused for everyfeather.

“Why you…” Dawson groused, wishing he could take the haughty griffin down a peg or two.

“Why you what?” Johan asked, daring him to finish the sentence. “Was it, you superior griffin to me in every way, perhaps? Or maybe it was, I wish I wasn’t the unwanted refuse of your mudslinger of a father?”

“Shut up, you bastard!” Dawson roared, unfurling his wings and flexing his talons threateningly.

“Bastard? But I knew my father, do you know yours, Dawson?” he taunted, circling around the griffin-half menacingly.

Dawson said nothing, turning his head away from Johan as his eyes watered in anger.

“It’s a shame, you’ve been grounded, Dawson,” he continued, pointing the treatise at him, before putting it down on a nearby table holding a large flowering plant. “Otherwise you could’ve redeemed yourself in the eyes of the clans.”

“What do you mean?” Dawson asked, wiping his reddened eyes with the back of his sleeve.

“Haven’t you heard?” the councilor said, offering him an insufferable grin. “We’re going to secure the services of a kirin lawyer to represent us before the Pantheon, and the feather who does it will have the eternal gratitude of all griffinkind should our suit be successful.”

“What’s so great and noble about that?” Dawson asked, confused how hiring somefeather for a job could be so important.

“Didn’t your tutors fill your slow mudslinger mind with anything useful, hatchling?” he asked, shocked that he knew nothing of value.

“So what is it then, councilor?” has asked, curious as to what Johan knew that he did not.

“If you wish to know, visit the library and educate yourself,” he said in a disparaging tone. “But maybe I’ll tell you…”

“Okay fine, what’s it going to cost me?” Dawson asked, noticing the documents left on the table.

“How about admitting that you’re nothing but a mudslinger wretch, unworthy to share a mountain with real griffins,” Johan demanded, enjoying how his words were wounding the griffin-half.

He felt his blood boil, but remembered the evil that he’d witnessed in the South, how miserable the griffin and the others in the slaver’s wagon had been, and knew he had to do something to make things right. Swallowing his pride, he decided to do as the councilor asked.

“Fine, Councilor Johan,” he said, sighing in defeat. “I’m a mudslinger wretch, unworthy to share a mountain with real griffins.”

“And…” Johan prompted.

“And?” Dawson asked not sure what else he was supposed to say.

“And that’s all you’ll ever be fledgling,” Johan continued, wearing a self-satisfied malevolent grin.

“And that’s all I’ll ever be,” Dawson repeated, feeling his cheeks flushing with shame.

“Thank you, mudslinger,” Johan said, offering him a small smile. “For finally admitting what everyfeather knew all along. A real griffin would never have debased themselves as you just did.”

“Fine, so tell me, what’s so important about hiring the lawyer?” he impatiently asked, wishing to get away from this hatefully bully as quickly as possible.

“Well the treatise I’m carrying, outlines the merits of our lawsuit against the other domains,” he explained, lightly tapping his talons together. “But kirins aren’t motivated by money, only knowledge, acclaim, or higher pursuits.”

“Then why would anyfeather bother representing us then, if not for the bits?” Dawson asked, looking to the document on the table once more.

“Why indeed?” Johan echoed, waiting impatiently for Dawson to answer his own question.

“For the prestige, perhaps,” he suggested, spying the signatures and seals on the document.

“Well yes, but not exactly,” Johan continued, excitedly flicking his tail back and forth. “The top kirin lawyers would only take our case, if they can be successfully convinced by the treatise carrier’s arguments. So obviously we need to send somefeather who can convince them to take our case. Without it, well… I’m sure Councilor Elrik will try his best to represent us before the Pantheon.”

“Well I’m sure mother will choose the right feather for the job,” Dawson said, turning to look down the hall.

“Normally as Master of Laws, it’s up to me to select the right griffin for these types of diplomatic envoys,” the councilor said, tapping his talon against the ground a few times. “But seeing how important this is, I think I may send one of my sons to the Ziggurat of Knowledge on our behalf.”

“Wouldn’t our ambassador to Autumn be the better choice?” Dawson pointed out, knowing full well what sorts of feathers Johan’s sons happened to be.

“No, such an important task should be kept to a limited number of candidates,” he said, moving away from Dawson. “Besides, I’m sure the weight of my clan’s name will aid my son in securing somefeather skilled to represent us.”

“And I’m sure the added honor being placed at your clan’s paws won’t hurt either,” Dawson sarcastically added, knowing full well why he was picking his own son over somefeather more qualified.

“Of course not,” Johan said, emphatically denying the accusation. “Serving the Domain of Air, and the Maelstrom of course, is its own reward. But should my clan receive any accolades or honor in serving the realm, well that just happens to be an added bonus.”

“This task is too important to leave to chance,” Dawson implored, hoping his impassioned words would convince the councilor. “Our fellow griffins are suffering. We should send an experienced diplomat, not some inexperienced feather that happens to be related to you.”

“Leave the decisions to your betters, half breed,” Johan condescendingly said, turning his back to Dawson. “Fortunately this matter will be resolved by a true griffin, and not by a mudslinger masquerading as one.”

“I am one!” he shouted, balling his talon into a fist.

“Mudslinger, you should have stayed in the South, where your kind belong,” Johan taunted, looking over his shoulder at Dawson with nothing but pure disdain. “But at least by being grounded, this is something else that you won’t be able to muck up.”

“I am a griffin…” Dawson said, lowering his head and looking away from the councilor once more.

“Keep telling yourself that, half breed,” Johan coldly replied, continuing his journey down the hall. “Keep telling yourself that…”

Furious at himself for letting the councilor get away with treating him so abominably without at least throwing a punch or two, as befitting a true griffin, he slammed his fist into the wall, nearly knocking over the nearby table. Rushing over to steady it and the potted plant. He saw the document left behind by Johan falling to the floor. Picking them up, he was about to chase after the councilor to return them, when he noticed what was written inside.

“The treatise!” he nearly shouted, as he began reading what was written.

He saw the arguments laid out inside, and felt they pointed out the great many injustices that had been done to their people. The words consisted mainly of cold legalistic arguments, which held none of the passion that he knew those griffins counting on them deserved to have said on their behalf. He was certain if somefeather who only cared for the glory, sought out a kirin lawyer, they would probably get somefeather who only cared about the law, and not the feathers that those laws affected.

Carefully examining the document, he saw that with the signatures and seals of both the Master of Laws and Master of Mediation on the page, making this treatise a fully legal document, and authorizing the bearer to secure the services of a kirin lawyer on the behalf of the Domain of Air. The realization of what he held in his talons weighed down on his wings like ice. Should he choose to disobey his mother once more and seek out a worthy kirin to represent them, he could redeem both his name and ensure that nofeather else would need suffer the cruel indignity of his father’s whips and chains.

But thinking of how much hurt he’d caused his mother the last time he’d run away, he didn’t think he could put her through that once more. He picked up the treatise and determined that he would return it to Councilor Johan. Taking a few steps forward to chase after him, he remembered how miserable the griffin and the others he’d rescued on the Lonely Road had been and stopped in his tracks.

His father, the Slave King was responsible for this, and if he did nothing wouldn’t he be just as responsible as all the others who’d done nothing to alleviate their suffering? Or worse, as guilty as the slaver he’d confronted who profited off the misery of all those he doomed to a decade of forced labor.

He thought back to his half-sister Melody and what she’d said before they’d parted. She’d helped him free the griffin and the others, but held no joy in their victory, only sorrow. He’d asked her how should could consider herself no better than the slaver, when she’d done such a good thing, her answer pained him.

He’d argued than that the slaver deserved nothing less than a grisly fate for what he’d done. Her rebuke for his words had stung him when she’d pointed out that he was just as guilty as the slaver for profiting from Gunhilde’s enslavement, and she happened to be as guilty or more for her years of service in the Slave King’s employ.

My hands are no cleaner than his, she’d morosely admitted, looking down at her hands with the remorse she’d so skillfully hidden behind the seemingly joyful smile she'd always worn to mask her sorrow. I’m a greater monster then he could ever hope to be.

Looking down at the treatise he held in his talons, he felt the same shame he’d felt then burning in his heart anew, and remembered Melody’s hope for the future.

Perhaps one day, the Domain of Earth can become a kinder land. A place where nofeather will ever be enslaved again, at least that’s my dream, she’d lamented to him, before letting the slaver go.

Wishing to comfort her, he’d embraced her as she wept, and promised himself then that one day their shame would be wiped way.

Knowing that he not only owed it to all those suffering under his father’s yoke, he owed it to Melody and himself to help make things right once more. Engraving this new found purpose upon his heart, he swore then that he would convince the wisest and most skilled lawyer amongst the kirin sages living in the Ziggurat of Knowledge to join their cause and represent them before the deities of the Equestrian Pantheon.

Having made up his mind, he carefully folded the treatise, placed it in his pocket, and headed to his room to prepare for the uncertain and risky journey through the Hinterlands of Autumn. Entering his room, he disrobed the finery he was wearing as Dawson the griffin-half, and donned the clothes he’d worn as Dustin the feathered folk scout. Picking up his spear, he held it aloft as he felt the heft of the weapon in his hands.

The spear was a masterwork, it had served him well in the tournament at Bone’s Landing those many days prior, and he hoped it would serve him just as well on his upcoming journey to Autumn. He remembered his old spear and how excited when he finally received it as a gift from his mother celebrating his sixteen birthday. It had been made by the finest weapon smith in the Domain of Air, and was looked at with envy when he’d shown it to his fellow trainees.

But this spear made it seem like a child’s plaything. The ebony shaft was as dark as night, and spearhead was pure arcanum, something nearly impossible to acquire outside the Domain of Earth. In his hands, the spear felt as light as a feather, and when he gave it a few practice thrusts, it seemed as quick as the wind. All in all, his dragon-half forged weapon was a thing of beauty, and as long as he had it in his possession he was sure he had nothing to fear on his journey through the untamed wilds of Autumn.

Pulling the black and green tunic he’d worn as a member of the Shadow Hoof Axilla regiment over his head, he straightened it before cinching his belt around his waist. Putting on the long gloves to disguise his talons, he slid them up his arms up to the elbow, and flexed each talon on his hand to ensure he had a good fit. Satisfied with how his gloves felt, he put on his cloak and unfurled his wings to ensure he could still fly. Convinced his clothes would give him no trouble, he slung his satchel over his shoulder, and tucked the treatise securely inside next to his rations.

Looking in a nearby mirror, he smiled when he saw Dustin, not Dawson reflected back at him. Grabbing his hat, he completed his disguise by drawing its attached shemagh across his face, obscuring his beak from view. Picking up his spear, he was about to exit his room, from the balcony, when he remembered his mother’s tears once more. Resolving to not make her worry once more, he decided to write her a note.

Mother, I know you said I was grounded, and forbade me to go, but this is something I have to do. I know how important it is that we get the best lawyer we can, however as the only feather besides yourself and the griffin we rescued who’s seen the effects of slavery first-talon, I hope to impress upon them the worthiness of our case. Another feather might speak more eloquently or have a greater reputation then I, but I doubt few will be able to speak with more passion about the urgency of our cause.

I look forward to returning home, having successfully recruited a lawyer best suited to our needs. Don’t worry, mother, I’ll be discrete, careful, and circumspect. And before you’ll know it I’ll have returned home once more, safe beneath your wing.

Love, your son, Dawson.

Kissing the note once, he left it on his nightstand, and turned to leave. Strapping his spear across his back, he walked out onto the balcony, stretched out his wings, and took to the skies. Flying close to the palace, he took care to avoid being seen by anyfeather, before he could reach the clouds circling above the Golden Eyrie. Hiding within the clouds, he checked around him, looking for anyfeather suspicious. Failing to see anyfeather, he paused a moment to look at his home one last time, before exiting the cloud cover to head west into Autumn and the Ziggurat of Knowledge where he hoped to find the kirin who would aid his people in finally receiving justice they were owed.

*****

She basked in the comfortable familiarity of this secluded place. Here, hidden from prying eyes, she was free from the nauseating presence of all those miserable interlopers who thought to trespass against what was rightfully hers alone. Here in the darkness, she was free from all those wretched liars and their wagging tongues, shielded from those thieves and traitors who sought to steal away that which was her birthright. Here she was protected, free to lick her wounds and plot her revenge against her enemies. Alone in the darkness, she was safe…

“Ah, Nightmare… So good to see you’re in such a chipper mood today,” a voice said with a slight chuckle.

Tiroc! she hissed, annoyed that he’d dared intrude upon her den when she was in this embarrassing condition.

“In the flesh, my dear,” he replied, offering her a slight bow of his head. “Or I would be, if I wasn’t currently bound to the Pit.”

What do you want? she demanded, in no mood to humor the Unmentionable One’s nauseating presence.

“Just dropping by to let you know my previous offer still stands, Nightmare,” he said with a small smile.

Me, serve you? You must be mad, she replied, scoffing at the very idea of ever serving the fallen god. I already told you before, I’ve no interest in serving a husk of a god like you. So why would I now?

“Because things have changed, Nightmare,” he answered, steepling his hands and tapping his fingers together.

Let me guess, Tiroc, another half-baked plot to escape your prison? she sarcastically asked, looking up from her paws at him with nothing but derision in her murderous eyes.

“This time fortune has smiled upon me,” he said, laying his right thumb over his left, as he offered her a smug look. “I have nearly succeeded in escaping from my prison.”

What nonsense, she said, rolling her eyes at him. If you have the means at your disposal, why are you bothering to brag to me about it, why not escape already?

Tiroc looked down on the ball of spite and rage before him, and ran his tongue over the edge of his teeth. “I thought I would give you one last chance to serve me, before I begin,” he explained, as the loud shrieks of ten thousand terrors echoed all around them.

Do you think to frighten me with your charlatan’s tricks, Tiroc? Nightmare spat, challenging him to offer her more than a terrible racket if he wanted to win her respect.

“It’s no trick, Nightmare,” he said, offering her a victorious look. “Your master, the Slave King, has fallen into torpor, and I intend to break down the gates of Tartarus while he’s indisposed.”

A colossal waste of time, she replied, shaking her head at his foolishness. The gates can only be opened from the outside, and they are being guarded by Cerberus. So I’m afraid your jailbreak will fail before it’s even begun.

“Nightmare, Cerberus is indeed a most fearsome guardian,” he agreed, stomping lightly with his hoof. “But I wonder if he’s strong enough to withstand the terrors of the city you hear calling.”

You forget, the Slave King isn’t alone, she said, giving him a dangerous look.

“You mean Scourge or Luna perhaps?” he suggested, giving her a small laugh. “I’m afraid they’ll be too busy protecting the Slave King as he slumbers.”

What do you mean? she demanded, feeling her blood run cold as she feared for her lord.

“Half the terrors haunting the city are assaulting the gates and Cerberus,” he explained, conjuring up an image of the horde converging upon the entrance to Tartarus. “The other half seeks the Slave King’s destruction in retribution. I’m afraid they’ll be much too distracted to prevent my escape.”

I’ll stop you, she promised, drawing her claws threateningly at him.

“It’s too late for that, my dear,” Tiroc replied, showing her a vision of the future. “Without the Slave King to seal the gates, my release will be imminent.”

You… she stuttered, flummoxed that there was little she could do to stop him.

“Join me, Nightmare, there’s no need to perish with your unworthy master,” he offered, enticing her with promises of power. “Or don’t, and join the Slave King in the Pit. The choice is yours.”

I’ll defeat you, Tiroc, she promised, bearing her fangs at him. By fang or claw, I will defeat you.

“I think not,” he said with deep chuckle. “If you only possessed the power of a god, then maybe you might stand a small chance against me.”

Nightmare snarled, furious at his mocking words, and wishing could leap into the Pit to end him once and for all.

“Yes, the power of a god,” Tiroc mused, lightly stroking his black goatee before returning his gaze to Nightmare. “Perhaps if you devoured the Slave King, you’d have the power you so desperately crave and desire.”

Never! she whined, feeling agitated that there was little she could do against him in her current state.

“Nightmare, if you truly wish to save the Slave King and stop my return, you could always devour Luna and claim her power for yourself instead,” he suggested, offering her a vision of the alicorn.

But how? she wondered, unsure if she could trust anything the Unmentionable One was saying.

“You once merged with the Slave King to reignite his divine spark,” he said, showing her a vision of the past. “I’m sure that given your nature as the Slave King’s first creation, you could do the same with your unwitting mistress. Then when she’s at her weakest, you could devour her, and then claim her power for your own. Only then with that power at your disposal, might you have a chance at defeating me.”

I’m done listening to your foolishness, she hissed, turning to exit the shadows so she could warn her master.

“But of course if you don’t have the stomach for it, my offer still stands,” he said, giving her an evil look.

I think I’ll enjoy watching you fail once more, Nightmare replied, not even bother to look over her shoulder at him.

“Go ahead, Nightmare, go to your master’s aid,” he goaded her, shaking his head at her stubborn foolishness. “Even if you’re successful in delaying the inevitable, in the end Luna will still be the Slave King’s wife, and you’ll be nothing more than just his lowly servant.”

Enough! she howled, furious at the stinging truth of his words. No longer able to bear his mockery and derision, she exited the shadows and returned from where she’d fled, the Slave King’s crumbling palace.

Looking up, she saw that she was alone. She’d returned to the traitor’s room, and the one time that she wished he was there, he wasn’t.

Scourge… she grumbled in annoyance, desperately wishing she still possessed her full strength.

Stepping out of the bed, she nearly fell over as she lost her balance. Pushing hard with her paw against the ground, she managed to keep herself upright as she struggled to remain standing. Giving herself a few minutes, and satisfied that she wouldn’t fall face first onto the ground the moment she moved, she began walking towards her master’s quarters.

Slowly making her way deeper into the palace, she was sure there was nothing to worry about. Tiroc was nothing but a liar, and she was sure his latest boasting about escaping his prison was nothing more than another sad attempt to get her to betray the Slave King for his worthless cause. However the loud shrieking wails that began piercing her ears told her otherwise.

Realizing she had precious little time to reach her master before it was too late, she moved as through the maze of corridors as quickly as her weak, trembling body would allow. Louder and louder the shrieks and moans of the vengeful dead echoed throughout the palace, saturating the air with all the rage and fury they held for the one who’d so mercilessly cut their lives short before their time.

It wasn’t much longer when she heard the telltale booming thuds of thousands pounding against the wards surrounding the palace that protected the living from the dead.

I’ve got to hurry! There’s not much time left, she murmured to herself, resting against a wall for a moment as she caught her breath.

Even though she was immortal like her master and facing the incoming innumerable horde of vengeful dead posed little risk to her, she didn’t relish facing them under these unfavorable circumstances. She had no idea what they would do should they manage to break through the barrier and reach her master. If they were lucky, all they might try to do was attempt to tear him to pieces, and if they were unlucky, well… She only hoped that Scourge and Luna could hold them off until she could get there.

She was nearly at his quarters now, and the cacophonous shrieks and wails had reached their crescendo. She was fairly sure the wards would shortly fail, and the endless throng of frightful terrors would fall upon the palace to consume them all. Opening the stone door to the Slave King’s quarters, she saw the traitor Scourge and her unworthy mistress Luna, standing beside their master the Slave King.

The Slave King was sprawled out on the bed nearly naked. Bereft of his crown and cloak, he didn’t nearly look as frightful as he normally did. His chest gently rose and fell as he slept, blissfully unaware of the danger that threatened him and his palace. His unworthy wife was at his side cradling him in her hooves, and she felt her ire rise when she saw the lying usurper being so familiar with her master as if she had any right to do so.

Refusing to look at Luna, she ignored her and turned to Scourge. We need to revive our master, she said, looking worriedly at her fallen king. Tiroc has sent half the horrors of the city to break down the Gates of Tartarus, and the other half to assault the palace.

Should he succeed, she warned, glancing momentarily at the Slave King before returning to look back at Scourge. It will be the end of all things…

*****

He laid on the soft bed with closed eyes while enjoying the ministrations of his companion. Her soft hands were sensually massaging the tips of his ears as she hummed a gentle melody. It was times like these he thanked Celestia that he held the position he did. Thinking back to earlier that night, a light blush appeared on his otherwise pale white coat as he reminisced on last night’s pleasures he and his companion had shared together.

She was one of the few beauteous and sensual feathered folk that lived here in the city, and he’d found her to be one of his favorite consorts. Her quick and nimble fingers, melodious voice, and fair looks were enough to drive most stallions wild with desire. Her wings and plumage were blue with light pink highlights, and her magenta eyes flashed with mischief whenever he invited her to join him in his bedchambers. He felt few could hold a candle to such an exquisite creature, but then again the two seaponies he bathed with daily held a unique charm all their own.

The mares were a pair of nearly identical twins, only differentiated by the hue of their luxurious scales and manes. Thanks to the unique magic they held, bath time with the two winsome mares was never boring, and often necessitated a second bath to clean up afterwards. Playing with the two inside their magic bubbles was always an unforgettable experience, but as enjoyable as they made bathing together, there was something to be said for the demure bitch he employed as one of his maids.

Standing slightly taller than his own impressive fourteen and a half hooves, his diamond dog maid was much stronger than most of the other mares he held in his employee. With claws that effortlessly cut through stone and jaws that could break gems with ease, she could readily crush a full grown stallion between her paws without a second thought if she chose. However she was a gentle, loving soul, possessing not a cruel bone in her body, and he greatly enjoyed the many blissful nights they’d spent entertaining each other in private.

There was nothing like waking up beside a lovely and willing bitch in the morning, but then again there was something to be said for the rough and tumble ways of a minotaur cow. Cows were strong, rowdy creatures, and if you let them, prone to bowling you over if you got in their way. It took somepony with a strong constitution and iron will to manage such stubborn, impulsive, and wild beasts, but the benefits of successfully taming one was great. Their strong hands and the generous, perky busts most of them proudly wore on their chests, made all the difficulties of enjoying the companionship of a headstrong cow worth it.

The soft, feminine curves of a lady minotaur were certainly exquisite to behold, but then again griffinesses had a charm all their own. Griffins were a fierce and territorial race. They valued strength and wily cunning above all else, and usually held disdain for those they felt beneath them. With sharp beaks and razor like talons, trying to bed a griffiness while keeping your hide intact was a tricky business. However if you could win their respect, they became much more amiable and affectionate creatures. Nothing got the heart beating and blood pumping like the feeling of your lover’s sharp beak nipping at your neck while running her talons through your mane.

He gave an involuntary shudder of pleasure at the memories he had of sharing his bed with his favorite griffiness playmate, before laying his head back down on his pillow. But as fearsome as she could sometimes be, nopony could beat a dragoness for the danger they held in their sharp teeth or powerful claws. Possessing both ample strength and magic, dragons of either sex could put both earth ponies and unicorns like himself to shame. While their powerful leathery wings allowed them to fly circles around most pegasi in any contest of aerial superiority.

While most fully grown dragonesses were much too large for a stallion like himself to enjoy. The adolescent ones were just the right size for pleasing a pony that shared his discerning tastes for the exotic. Their shining scales sparkled like gems, and the fires in their bellies and loins always made sharing a bed with one an enjoyable and remarkable experience. Their long forked tongues and sinuous tails were a joy to experience, and so far no dragoness had ever left him wanting.

As a connoisseur of female flesh of all kinds, he was certain that he’d sampled them all. But there was one who’d continually managed to elude him thus far. Her enticing beauty and fiery temperament beckoned him, and all her adamant, unceasing repudiation of his affections, only inflamed the great desire he had for her. He was fairly certain, that once he’d conquered her mountain and plundered her treasure, that he’d be satisfied. Well until the next lucky mare managed to catch his eye. But for now, he’d lust after the object of his desire from afar until he finally succeeded in overcoming all her objections and had finally won her long sought after affection.

“Harmony…” he murmured, moaning appreciably at his bedmate’s gentle touch. “One day you’ll be mine.”

Upon hearing his lustful sigh, his companion stopped massaging his ears.

“Why’d you stop?” he irritably demanded, annoyed that she’d interrupted his daydreaming.

“Maybe you should go ask Harmony, Blueblood,” she huffed, looking away from her unicorn lover in irritation.

“Angel, baby, sweetheart,” he said, nuzzling her blue down covered cheek. “Don’t be that way, my sweetness.”

“Humph,” she pouted, moving to the other side of the bed away from him.

“You know, you’re the only girl for me,” he said, offering her his large, blue, puppy dog eyes.

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it, Blueblood,” she said, folding her arms in front of her breasts.

“Aw, I’m sorry if I made you feel jealous, my little chickadee,” he cooed, nibbling the edge of her wing.

“Oh, Bluey,” she sighed, blushing at his affectionate teasing nibbles.

“Now how about I show you how much you mean to me, baby,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at her suggestively.

“Oh, yes, darling,” she tittered, wrapping her arms around his neck and gently kissing his muzzle.

He could smell her arousal intermingling with his own, and wriggled free from her grasp as he prepared to go to work in pleasuring her. Going under the sheets, he smiled as he prepared to enjoy his breakfast in bed, truly he was the luckiest stallion alive. Looking at the exquisite bounty that lay between her legs, he hummed to himself as he prepared to feast on her proffered love.

Before he could sample her succulent delights, somepony began pounding urgently on the door. “Governor Blueblood, Governor Blueblood,” a muffled voice called out from outside his bedchamber.

Groaning with disappointment, he popped out his head from beneath the sheets and offered his lover an apologetic look. “Sorry, love, duty calls,” he said, kissing her feathered abdomen.

“I understand, Bluey,” she said, climbing out of the bed, and reaching for the clothes she’d hastily discarded the night before.

“Maybe we can do this again sometime later, sweet thing?” he suggested, giving her feather covered rear a playful, teasing squeeze with his magic.

“We’ll see, love,” she lustfully said, kissing him as she buttoned her shirt.

“Governor Blueblood! Open the door, this is an emergency,” the voice impatiently shouted.

“Fine, fine, come in!” he grumbled, annoyed that his morning’s entertainment had been so rudely interrupted.

The door opened and a humorless seapony wearing a pensive face floated through the doorway into the room. He looked at the governor and his guest with a disapproving look, the disdain he held for their recent shameless behavior clear on his muzzle. Blueblood leaned back against his headboard and gave the seapony a sidelong glance, not caring in the least that the evidence of his nightlong wanton debauchery was in full display for anypony to plainly see. Having hastily dressed, his feathered folk lover gave him a quick peck on the lips, and offered him a lust filled look before exiting the room to give the stallions some privacy.

“Blueblood, was she your third or fourth companion this week?” he backhoofedly asked, averting his gaze from the governor’s uncovered and fully visible unsheathed bits.

“My fifth actually. But, then who’s counting, eh, Stormbreak?” Blueblood asked, giving the seapony a cheeky grin.

“That’s Governor Stormbreak, you degenerate,” he replied, not even bothering to hide the distaste he held for his fellow governor. “And for Triton’s sake, stallion, cover yourself up. Nopony wants to see your stallionhood.”

“That’s not what your mother told me,” Blueblood replied, sitting up from his prone position.

Shaking his head in disapproval at the unicorn, the seapony rolled his eyes in exasperation at his foalish antics. “Governor Blueblood, does your licentious and depravity know no bounds?” he demanded, knowing full well what the answer would be.

“So where’s the fire?” Blueblood asked, knowing that the straight laced, humorless seapony wouldn’t be offering him anymore entertainment. “Why did you disturb me this early?”

“Governor, I would hardly call midday early,” the governor retorted, shaking his head at Blueblood’s slothful behavior. “However, it appears that the Slave King desires an accounting on how you’ve been running the city.”

“What! The Slave King is here?” he shouted, afraid to face the Lord of Earth and having to explain his vast appetites and vices.

“No, Governor Blueblood, unfortunately the Slave King hasn’t come personally to remove you from your position,” Governor Stormbreak lamented, wishing that somepony far more worthy then him was serving in his place as the head of the city’s Triumvirate Council.

“Whew…” he exhaled, breathing a sigh of relief that he wouldn’t have to face the humorless, dark, dread lord of the Earth. “So who did he send then?”

“A feathered folk and her retinue,” he explained, glad to have delivered his message so he could get away from such a disreputable cad.

When he heard Governor Stormbreak mention a feathered folk, Blueblood’s heart soared with joy. Finally the object of all his lusts and affection, Harmony, the Black was here, and he could finally woo and win her heart with all his irresistible charms and courtly graces. Drawing magic into his horn, he released it, opening up a secret alcove he kept in the corner of his room.

Standing in the corner was an ornate golden alter that held several large black feathers, stacks of half written pages of once crumpled parchment, broken quills, stained undergarments, and above it all a large portrait bearing the image of his obsession, one Harmony, the Black. The painting depicted her scantily clad, laying invitingly on a bed, and wearing a come hither look on her face.

“Harmony is here?” is asked with hope, excited at the prospects of finally being reunited with the object of his desire.

“No, Governor Blueblood, Harmony isn’t the one that was sent,” he answered, shaking his head disapprovingly at his lecherous colleague’s shrine. “All the more a pity, that she wasn’t the one the Slave King sent. Because I’m sure that if she was, she’d have a few choice words for you.”

“I know, Stormbreak,” Blueblood lamented, burying his muzzle in his hooves. “Why has fate decreed that she be so close, yet so far out of my reach?”

“Perhaps had you not tried blackmailing the magister into your bed, you might’ve remained posted in the Neo Vale as Celestia’s ambassador to the Domain of Earth,” Stormbreak replied, reminding the unicorn exactly how he’d received his current position.

“I know, curse my exuberant heart,” he sighed, gently kissing the shrine once, before hiding it away with his magic once more. “If only I’d gotten her properly drunk first… But no, I had to try being sneaky with you, my love.”

“Governor Blueblood, might I suggest taking a cold shower before meeting the Slave King’s envoy,” Stormbreak offered, wishing to remove himself before the lust addled pony started sharing the saucy fantasies he was planning for the poor mare. “You smell like a brothel.”

“Good idea,” he agreed, grabbing a towel while hoping the chilly water would quench the flame he held in his heart. “Tell them I shall be seeing them shortly.

Governor Stormbreak said nothing, glad to finally escape the presence of such an odious degenerate as the disgraced former prince. He only hoped that Governor Blueblood offended the delegation enough that he would finally be sent back to Equestria. Then with the vulgar buffoon having been stripped of his position, he and the rest of governors could finally get back to business of smoothly running the city. He was certain an enterprising fellow such as he would easily be chosen to replace the boorish Blueblood, and once that embarrassment was properly finned, everypony would be once again well onto their way of getting rich through the slave trade.

*****

Watching them from the safety of his hiding place, he felt a fury burning within his gut he’d not know since he’d awoken from his centuries long slumber. Seeing all those poor condemned souls locked in cages and shackled in irons, it broke his heart. He remembered a time not too long distant when it had been him, cowering in a similar cage, a stranger in an unfamiliar, alien land. Those who’d captured him had been cruel and uncaring, and he’d suffered greatly at their hands. But what had haunted him for years after being pressed into slavery, that it might’ve been entirely avoidable.

He’d been afraid then. The dogs that had discovered and surrounded him each had powerful, fierce claws and sharp, fearsome teeth. He might’ve stood taller, but they were far stronger. He’d been in possession of several weapons, a hatchet, a makeshift club, a heavy sock full of coins, and even a knife. His assailants were unarmed, and had he taken the chance, he might’ve been able to drive them off. But no, the moment he saw them, he dropped to his knees and begged for his life.

He could still remember the look of amusement plastered on the leader’s muzzle as he threw a pair of shackles at his feet. With one look, he’d known what was expected of him, and he complied without as much as a whimper. With that, he’d joined the ranks of the miserable wretches before him. Had he been brave, he might have been spared a decade of constant pain, suffering, and humiliation. The ordeal had almost been greater then he could bear, and if not for the one bright spot in his life of agony and sorrow, he would’ve gladly passed on into the shadows of oblivion.

It was her, his Little Bleu, who had brought him such comfort and solace during his long decade of anguish and woe. He’d met her as a filly, a child of no more than eight years old. To his eternal shame, he’d stolen her meager meal to feed himself without a second thought. Discovering the theft, she wept in hunger and despair. It was in that moment, moved by compassion for her that he’d repented, and returned to her that which he’d so callously stolen.

It was from that moment on, that their fates seemed entwined one to the other. They were always assigned to work together, and as the moths slowly passed they eventually became friends. Months turned to years, and as the filly grew so too did their bond, until eventually she considered him her father and she his daughter. It was those familial bonds that gave him the strength to endure, not for himself, but for her.

It gave him the courage to say no to those who wished to use and violate her for their own twisted pleasure, and the strength to face the furious retaliation of their cruel, biting whips. The audacity to dream of a day when they’d finally be free, and the tenacity to try escaping when the opportunity presented itself. But most of all, it was the hope she inspired in him to persevere when things looked their bleakest.

He closed his eyes, unable to bear what he was seeing. All these doomed creatures without a hope of redemption, and cruelly fated to the injustice of becoming someone’s slave. He felt his heart pound in his chest, as the bitter taste of bile filled his mouth. Spitting in disgust, he looked away in shame, sorrowful there was nothing that he could possibly do to help them.

He saw three of them, a unicorn, a seapony, and a minotaur, surrounding the one who he supposed was one of the feathered folk. She looked young, possibly no older than Little Bleu had been before meeting her untimely demise. They towered over their bound captive, as they decided what to do with her. From previous experience from such people, he knew nothing good would come of it.

The minotaur rested his hand on the hilt of his large sword, possibly waiting for the word from his compatriots to kill her. The seapony held a knife in her fins, and seemed to be fascinated by it as she played with it. Judging by the hat the unicorn wore, he thought he might be the captain of this motley crew of ne’er-do-wells. Seeing how far away they were from the others, he thought that their prisoner might be able to escape if she could somehow manage to break free from the ropes binding her.

He smiled when he saw her giving her captors a defiant, flinty look. Even though her situation was dire and the likely outcome bleak, she hadn’t yet broken or given into fear. Looking at her, he grieved that there wasn’t anything he could do for her. Beyond the clothes on his back, he had nothing useful in his possession. Without some sort of weapon, there was no way he could face two armed opponents and a third most likely possessing potent magic.

He briefly considered using his own newly discovered magic, before utterly dismissing the idea as foolish. He was certain the unicorn was a veteran spell caster, while he was nothing but a rank amateur. He only wished that Suzaku was here, she would know what to do. He’d seen what she’d done to that sea monster with her power, and sure she could easily overpower all the slavers with just a few flaps from her wings.

Before he could further lament his powerlessness, he felt the gentle pull of magic all around him. Reaching out, he felt the prisoner drawing on a fire ley line. Opening up his eyes to their normally hidden magical ebb and flow, he saw a bright red stream of magic flowing across the sandy beach and into the feathered folk’s beak. She was drawing on the fiery magic in order to escape! He was certain of it. All she needed was a distraction, and when their backs were turned she would unleash a magical assault to knock them on their asses.

Although he didn’t dare help her directly, he knew he had to do something. Even though he was still a neophyte with his own magic, he felt comfortable enough using his newly discovered power to conjure up a dust storm to conceal her escape. Once she’d lost her pursuers, he’d reveal to her his hiding space. Then hidden together, they would wait for Suzaku to return, and ask her what they should do about rescuing the remaining slaves and how to stop their wicked captors.

Readying himself to aid in her escape, he began drawing in an influx of magic from the surrounding ley lines. As the invisible threads of magic quickly grew into streams and then rushing rivers. He felt himself growing flush with power, this was unexpected. He hadn’t planned on receiving such an excess of magic. He felt the magical currents and eddies spinning around him like a great vortex of power. Undetectable to mortal eyes, it appeared to be a clear sunny day on the beach.

The tide in the small cove was ebbing and flowing, and there was nothing to hint at the magical storm that was brewing unseen. But to his magically attuned eyes, he saw a maelstrom of magic threatening to consume him. More and more the magic rushed into him like water into a dry sponge, and any worries he held for the feathered folk and the other slaves disappeared into the aether, as fear for his own safety began creeping into his heart.

But before his dread could utterly consume him, he saw the seapony slam the butt of the knife into their captive’s head. The feathered folk slumped forward and appeared to lose consciousness. It was then to his surprise that he discovered who it was they’d been mistreating. They had been standing around her before, and so he was unable to see her face clearly. But now there was no doubt, she was Aria, Suzaku’s daughter.

When she’d told him about the troubled romance she’d had with the Slave King, and the many offspring that was the result of their many trysts over the years. She made special mention of three of her daughters, Aria, Melody, and Harmony. Although the phoenix deity said she loved all her children equally, those three held a special place in her heart. Unlike the other feathered folk, Suzaku had actually given birth to them.

She’d shown him the family portrait she owned depicting her three daughters standing together. Or rather he supposed their daughters, his and Suzaku’s children, seeing as he’d decided to claim them as his children. From the first moment he’d seen the portrait depicting them, he heart leapt for joy and wept with sorrow. Aria’s proud stature, Melody’s entrancing smile, and Harmony’s wise eyes. He saw a piece of himself in each of them, and it hurt knowing he’d never gotten the chance to see them grow into the lovely young women they’d become.

The realization that it was his daughter, his own flesh and blood laying on the beach both bruised and bloodied, ignited a fire of a cold hate ablaze in his heart for those monsters who thought they could do whatever they wanted to those weaker themselves. He abandoned any thought for his own welfare. Looking at the magic storm raging all around him, he balled up his hand into an angry fist, and was determined to rescue his child from these wicked slavers.

*****

She held the long knife in her fin. Studying it, she marveled at the superior craftsponyship that had gone into its manufacture. The blade itself was as black as the night, and the hilt felt perfect in her fin. At a length of nearly three fins, the blade was much longer than most knives she’d seen, but not so long as sword. Parrying and thrusting it into the air, she appreciated how useful the long knife would be in close quarters combat.

With a sword’s longer length, a pony might have some difficult in smaller spaces. But with the knife blade’s abnormal length, she could easily outreach anypony else’s knife if it came down to it. Running her fin against the blade’s edge, she enjoyed the feeling of the blue sparks her magical bubble made as it came into contact with it. A reaction like that meant only one thing, arcanum.

As first mate on the ship, and the pony who’d managed to capture their prisoner, she’d had first pick of the loot. Red had been carrying a satchel full of bits on her, and given how full it was, the satchel had been the prize everypony else had desired. But when she saw the unusual knife, she knew she had to have it. The long knife and belt had been well cared for, but it wasn’t until she drew the blade and saw it sparking at her touch did she realize what a treasure she now possessed.

Acquiring arcanum weapons was extraordinarily difficult given how valuable the magically resistant metal was. Outside the Order of the Lawgiver, or the Slave King’s armies, it was rare to see somepony with one. She was certain should she decide to sell it she could easily get three times as many bits as she would receive for her share from this smuggling trip.

The others not realizing its value and focusing solely on the bits in the satchel had readily agreed into letting her keep the weapon as her share. Only too happy to agree, she smirked as they divvied the rest of the loot. Although she was sure the weapon was battle tested, she felt the need to prove the weapon for herself. Looking at the knife’s former owner she maliciously smiled.

“Soon,” she cooed lovingly to her prize. “Soon I’ll anoint you with blood, my precious. Won’t that be grand?”

The knife said nothing, as she drew it along the length of her fin, relishing in the sparks that leapt from where arcanum met magic. She felt her bubble’s magic threatening to give out, as the blade began unraveling the magic that held her aloft. Continuing to play with the knife like this was dangerous, if it managed to completely disrupt her bubble, she would fall to the sand below, unable to move until she could return to the sea to recharge her innate magic.

She shuddered with pleasure, she found walking such a fine line intoxicating, and wondered just how far she could go before her power gave out. Bringing the knife to her muzzle she licked the blade’s edge as she might a lover. The resulting sparks filling her mouth made her giggle like a filly. Removing it from her mouth, she imagined standing in front of her victim and lewdly smiled. Slowly thrusting it forward, she began slowly twisting the knife as she imagined their fear and terror as she penetrated her.

“Shh, my love, it’ll be all over soon,” she sighed, desperately wishing she could break in her new toy.

But alas they still needed Red alive, so for now she’d have to satisfy herself with fantasies. But her lust filled looks between her knife and their prisoner hadn’t gone unnoticed. The ship’s bosun had seen her, and decided to put the seapony straight.

“Mr. Barbed Hook,” he said, moving between her and her destined prey.

“What is it?” she groaned, unhappy that he’d interrupted her alone time with her new plaything.

“There’s work to be done,” he reminded her, pointing towards the numerous cages filled with captured ponies, griffins, and even the odd deer or two.

“Let the others deal with that, Gorehorn,” she replied with a dismissive wave of her fin. “Somepony has to keep an eye on Red in case she tries something.”

“Yes, that’s true,” he rumbled, looking warily at the knife she held in her fin. “But who’s going to keep an eye on you?”

“Just what are you insinuating!” she demanded, glaring up angrily at the much larger minotaur.

“Only that idle hands make for the Unmentionable One’s workshop,” he said, pointing to her drawn long knife. “We need her in good condition, and unsullied, Mr. Barbed Hook.”

“Oh fine,” the seapony groused, sliding the knife into its sheath.

“We’ve got a cage free for her,” he said, pointing towards the beach. “Since you seem so taken with her, you get to carry her there.”

Even though she outranked him as first mate on the ship, when they were moving cargo his word was law. Grumbling, she picked up their limp prisoner and placed her over her shoulder.

As they walked towards the crew and waiting cages, she shivered when she felt a fierce wind blowing against her scales. Looking up, she noticed that the weather was beginning to turn as the sky darkened and the sea grew green and choppy.

“Gorehorn, we need to secure the cargo with tarps,” she said, pointing to the darkening skies.

“I agree, I’ll have some of the bulls begin covering the cages,” he said, walking towards a few ponies who were moving a fully loaded cage across the beach.

“Alone at last, love,” she whispered, looking longingly at her knife.

*****

When she awoke, Aria felt herself being carried by somefeather. She felt groggy and her head was throbbing and hurt something fierce. Slowly opening her eyes, she felt a wild wind blowing against her feathers as sand and dust blew in her face. Fluttering her eyes open she saw a dark silhouette of a tall figure standing in the distance. The blowing dust all around her made it hard to see them, and she wasn’t quite sure who it was. She wanted to call out, to warn them to escape before they too were captured, but found her tongue and throat were too dry to make more than a weak cry.

As the dust storm grew in strength and obfuscated her vision, she saw the figure take on an unearthly green glow. Was it one of the wandering desert spirits that sometimes liked to prey upon travelers she wondered? While the great monstrous beasts that made the untamed wilds of the South their home were always a concern, it was the incorporeal vengeful spirits that roamed the land that made up the true danger.

Few knew what they truly were, somefeathers claimed they were vengeful souls unjustly slain by the Slave King before their time. Others believed they were lost spirits that had been denied passage through the Gates of Tartarus when they’d died, and were only too happy to take out their frustrations out on the living. While the religious believed them to be servants of the Slave King’s he’d sent to guard his territory from unwelcome adventurers, trespassers, and interlopers.

Aria cared little if the approaching glowing phantasm obscured by dust and sand was any of those, all she knew was that it was the means to her escape. While the slavers were busy defending themselves from the dangerous specter, she could slip away unnoticed into the raging storm. If she was lucky, she might even be able to find one of the nearby watering stations, and send a message to Master Scourge before they managed to find her.

But there was always the risk that if she made her move too soon, the ghostly creature might decide she was the easier prey. She felt the missing weight of her knife and belt on her hip and narrowed her eyes. If she only still had her arcanum knife in her possession, she wouldn’t have to worry about becoming some spirit’s next meal.

Peering into the dust storm she saw it raising its shadowy hand… Wait, a hand? What spirit kind of spirit could possibly possess a hand? Hands were almost unheard of, unless they belong to a beastfolk or minotaur. The silhouette was much too small to belong to a minotaur, and its shadowy profile didn’t match the shape of any beastfolk she’d even seen. Which only left the possibility it could be a wayfarer like her father. But everyfeather knew wayfarers were bereft of magic, so that could only mean that was she was seeing was one thing.

“Slave King!” she called out, as tears wet her dust covered face. Unashamed, she cried as her heart called out to the parent whose love she’d so desperately craved for her entire life was within her reach.

“What?” the seapony carrying her said in surprise as a terrifying fury fueled roar shook the earth with its rebuke and filled the air with its reproach.

Terrified cries of, “The Slave King has found us!” were uttered as the slavers drew their weapons in a futile effort to defend themselves.

“Stallions, get a hold of yourselves!” Captain Thorn Thistle desperately shouted to his panicking crew. “Everypony surround the cages.”

Aria felt the seapony carrying her making double time as she struggled to join the others. Wiggling, she tried slipping free from her captor’s grip, and was delighted when she felt herself falling off her shoulder, and onto the sand below. The seapony tried dragging her, but as the oncoming storm threatened to swallow them, she quickly gave up and left her behind.

Struggling against her bonds to stand upright, she coughed as sand and dust filled her mouth and lungs as she fought to breathe. Tucking her head into her shoulder, she pushed against the wind blowing against her as she slowly moved towards where she knew some large rocks were for shelter from the storm. All around her she heard the panicked cries of both slaver and slaves as the full fury of the storm descended upon them all.

Reaching the stones and the meager shelter they offered her. She saw the shadowy figure walking into the midst of the slaver’s makeshift camp. They stood like the calm center of this terrifying hurricane of unmitigated anger and fury raging all around them. They reached out with their hand to the slavers and she counted the fingers, five just like hers. She was certain of it now, it was her father, and he’d come to bring her home.

She could barely see anything through the blowing dust and sand, but she saw her father silently standing there in front of the wicked slavers. She wanted to call out to him, to apologize for leaving him and Master Scourge the way that that she’d had. There was so much she wanted to tell him, of what she learned from Little Bleu about him on her journey, that she forgave him for being so cold and distant to her and her sisters, but most importantly that she loved him. But for now she would remain silent and watch as he served justice to those who’d dared defy him.

His shadowy form turned to look at her once before returning his attention to the slavers before him. Almost as sudden as the storm had fallen upon them, the howling winds stopped, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. The dust filled air left her vision obscured, and her father seemed to fade away into nothing.

“Wait! Don’t go,” she plead, worried that what she’d seen had been nothing more than a phantom.

“See, lads, it was nothing to be worried about,” she heard the unicorn call out.

She expected them to cry out in panic as her father fell upon them in fury for having the audacity to touch her, but nothing came. It was almost as if he’d not been there at all. Looking into the dust filled air, she struggled to cut her bonds against the sharp rock she’d been leaning against so she could escape.

Before she’d managed to get far, she heard the menacing voice of the seapony calling out to her, “Oy, Red, don’t go wandering off, we still have unfinished business!”

Knowing she didn’t have much time, she began rubbing the ropes against the stones with a fury. She knew if they managed to capture her again, she’d never get another opportunity to escape these monsters. Ignoring how the rubbing ropes bit into her swollen wrists and rubbed her skin raw, she was relieved when she saw the rope beginning to fray as she made steady progress cutting through it.

Just a few minutes more, she thought, when she felt the rope around her wrists beginning to loosen.

As she frantically worked on cutting through the rope binding her, her eyes darted back and forth as she checked her surroundings for any signs of the evil seapony or her compatriots. Another strand of the rope broke and her hands were nearly free now. Soon she could rid herself of the hateful ropes running across her wings, and once they were freed she could finally fly to safety. Once airborne, she’d fly towards the nearest watering station and send out an alert. Then it would only be a matter of time until these slave smuggling bastards would get what was rightfully coming to them.

With a final snap, the rope binding her wrists together had come undone and she was free to work on the ropes tying her wings to her back. However, before she could loosen them enough to free them, she heard a familiar, menacing voice say, “Hey, Red, where do you think you’re going?”

Looking up she saw the seapony perched above her on the rock maliciously leering down at her, and holding her stolen knife at the ready. Knowing she had to get away, she opened up her wings, and pushed down hard with her legs. With a powerful flap, she launched herself backwards into the air to avoid her captor’s reach. She shot the seapony a victorious look as she began pumping her wings as hard as she could. But before she could achieve liftoff, she felt herself being dragged down from behind. Looking behind her, she saw the minotaur holding onto the ropes binding her legs.

“No!” she cried out in fear, as any further hopes of escaping fled her heart.

“Yes, Red,” the seapony said with a laugh, leaping towards her and grabbing onto her torso with her outstretched fins.

They fell to the ground, their limbs tangled up together as they fought and wrestled against each other for dominance. Throwing a quick punch to the seapony’s muzzle, she was pleased when she saw the shock of her blow had made them drop her long knife into the sand. Growling with fury, the seapony pressed down all her weight on Aria’s right shoulder, eliciting a painful scream.

Throwing caution to the wind, Aria reached over and bit down on the seapony’s fin as hard as she could. Her beak and teeth sank into her opponent’s flesh, and felt a sliver of satisfaction as the coppery taste of the seapony’s salty blood touched her tongue.

“Argh! Red, I’ll kill you for that,” the seapony screeched as reached out for the knife with good fin.

Aria, threw a handful of sand into the seapony’s eyes as she struggled to reach the knife before her opponent could. She felt the knife’s hilt touching her fingertips and smiled as she slowly gripped it. But before she could a firm grip on her weapon, she felt herself being dragged away from its salvation.

“Sorry, justicar, I can’t let you do that,” the minotaur said, as Aria struggled in vain against his greater strength.

“Step aside, Gorehorn, and let me at her!” the seapony demanded, pointing the knife threateningly at her.

“No,” he said, knowing she’d just kill the justicar in her anger.

“Get out of my way, mudslinger,” she threatened, holding her knife at the ready.

“How about no,” he snorted, stomping his hooves and threateningly shaking his horns at her.

Looking towards the sea, she gave them both a malicious grin, and reached out towards it with her fin. Moments later a stream of water slammed into the minotaur, making him drop the rope holding Aria. Flapping her wings, she tried escaping once more, but found herself being choked with water. Using her magic, the seapony had encased her head entirely in water. Pounding at the water surrounding her head with her fists, she tried escaping its hold to no avail as the water twisted around her and held her still.

“Heh, heh, Red, cat’s got your tongue, love?” she smirked, running the knife along Aria’s breast.

Struggling against the water’s hold, her wings flapped in vain as she tried escaping. But there was no escape, this vile seapony was going to either drown or murder her with her own knife, and there was nothing she could do to stop her. She closed her eyes, and hoped that when she opened them she would see Little Bleu once more. But the pain from the knife’s thrust never came. Opening her eyes, she saw that the shadowy phantasm had returned.

He’d leapt up from the earth and into the air with a mighty shout. Surprised, the seapony dropped her magical water’s hold on her intended victim, letting Aria fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Coughing and sputtering water from her lungs, she gasped for air as she tried to regain her bearings. Ignoring her for now, the seapony rushed to aid her fellow slavers who were in the process of receiving a brutal beat down from the wayfarer’s fists.

Laying on her side, Aria was breathing heavily as she tried processing what was happening before her. Who she’d thought was her father, was somefeather else entirely. Unlike the Slave King’s heavily scarred and frightening appearance, this unknown wayfarer had nary a scar or blemish on him. He was a warm shade of pink, a stark contrast to her father’s deathly pale skin. No beard adorned his face, and he still possessed both arms. But on both his hands, he had five fingers, just like she did.

She was utterly exhausted and had no idea what this wayfarer would do with her once he'd finally dealt with the slavers he was brawling with. Deciding she would wait and see, she busied herself with removing the rest of the ropes still binding her. Studying his movements, she could see some of the same familiar movements her father sometimes used when he sparred Scourge or the others. Giving each of his outmatched foes ample helpings of rapid one two punches from his fists, most of the crew were knocked down and out after only a few well-placed strikes to the face.

However a few like the minotaur, who’d just recovered from his surprise soaking by the seapony, were proving to be a greater challenge for the wayfarer fighter than the others. She’d seen minotaurs brawl before, and due to their great strength they could be devastating fighters. Most fights ended once they'd managed to get their meaty hands on you, but the wayfarer didn’t seem to care. He deftly avoided the minotaur’s large sword and grabbed ahold of the minotaurs sword hand. Struggling against him, they fought each other for dominance and control of the weapon.

As they fought, they locked hands and began pushing against each other, neither seemed to be gaining the upper hand against the other in this impromptu contest of strength. The minotaur began growing frustrated that he couldn’t use his weapon, while the wayfarer tried wresting it free from his grip. Growing tired of their stalemate, the wayfarer slammed his head into the minotaur’s wide muzzle, stunning and bowling him over. After giving him a few well-placed kicks to his ribs for good measure, the wayfarer turned his attention to the unicorn and the other casters shooting magical bolts at him.

Deciding that he needed help, Aria took to the sky and began drawing on the magic all around them. Tapping into the ley lines, she noticed something odd, the wayfarer seemed to be a swirling vortex of all types of magic. Deciding that she could worry about his seemingly unusual magical abilities later, she dove into the fray, landing a fiery fist into the vicious seapony that had tormented her so.

Infuriated by her sneak attack, the seapony shouted out obscenities and she began flinging torrents of water at her in retaliation. Laughing at her opponent’s inept attacks, she banked hard to the right and easily avoided the seapony’s onslaught of thrown water. Looking down, she noticed that the wayfarer seemed to be shrugging off all the unicorn’s magical blasts as if they were nothing. Wheeling around for another charge from the sky, she narrowed her eyes when she saw what the seapony was trying to do.

She was brandishing her long knife in her fin as she was sneaking up behind him to strike him in the back. Determined that the seapony wouldn’t succeed, she tucked in her wings and reach out to grab the knife before her foe could cause anymore mischief with it. With a satisfying crunch, she socked the seapony right in the muzzle as she successfully grabbed the knife from her fin. Landing beside the wayfarer, she held her knife at the ready as both the unicorn and seapony prepared to make their last stand against them. She saw him give her a small smile, before he offered the two remaining slavers a dark scowl. He began flexing his fingers, before balling his right hand into a tight fist. His left he kept at the ready in case he needed to grapple either of their wary opponents.

The unicorn shivered in his hooves as he looked at the unconscious members of his crew. Levitating the bag of bits he’d relieved from Aria, he threw them at the wayfarer’s feet. “Go ahead, take it,” he called out, breathing heavily from equal parts fear and exhaustion.

Picking up the purse, the wayfarer upended it and let the bits fall to the ground untouched and uncounted. “I wonder how many lives you’ve purchased with those bits?” he asked, giving the unicorn a scorn filled look.

“Please let us go,” he begged, slowly backing away from the much larger wayfarer.

The wayfarer said nothing, instead holding out his hand expectantly to Aria. “Your knife please,” he said, his flat tone revealing nothing.

Holding the knife by the blade, Aria placed it hilt first in his outstretched palm. She saw his fingers curling around it and let go. The wayfarers slowly approached the trembling unicorn, as he continued to back away. Finally with his back to the cage, the poor unicorn trembled in fear.

“Who are you?” he asked, wondering what sort of creature he was dealing with.

“Your end,” the wayfarer said as he brought down the knife with a heavy thunk.

Fearful of dying, the unicorn closed his eyes and screamed in terror. When he noticed he was still standing he noticed that the wayfarer had broken the cage’s lock instead. Swinging open the heavy iron door, he motioned for the poor souls inside to come out. One by one the ponies and griffins inside began exiting the cage. Each of them gave their captor an angry look as they passed him by. One by one, the wayfarer smashed the locks on the other cages, and invited those trapped inside to join him in freedom. Soon the cages were all empty, and beach was full of former slaves standing over their defeated would be masters.

Turning to the seapony and unicorn he shook his head. “You deserve to die for this,” he said, pointing the knife at them. Turning to the freed slaves he asked, “What say you? What should we do with them?”

As the freed slaves began to murmur about what should be done, the seapony began to slowly creep away from them. Noticing this Aria swooped down upon her and grabbed hold of her knife belt.

“Let go of me!” she demanded, struggling against Aria’s grip.

“Certainly,” Aria agreed, wheeling around back towards the waiting cages. “I think we can find you a lovely cage of your own.

Looking down, the seapony saw they were over the water. Undoing the knife belt’s latch, she smirked as she fell down into the water below. “Better luck next time, eh, Red?” she mocked, before diving down into the water.

“Get back here!” Aria shouted, furious that she wouldn’t be able to avenge herself on the dastardly seapony villain.

Circling overhead for any sign of the seapony, after a few passes she gave up and returned to the beach to rejoin the wayfarer and the others. Seeing her return empty handed, the wayfarer handed her knife back. Sheepishly she grabbed it and set about to sliding it into its sheath, before putting her knife belt back on. Tugging it slightly, she spent a few moments adjusting her belt until it was sitting on her hips the way she liked.

Noticing her abandoned coin purse and satchel, she set about the task of gathering her reclaimed things. As picked up her bits, she noticed the memento that her master had insisted that she take with her on her journey. The large boon coin bearing the Slave King’s emotionless face stared back up at her. She’d been so sure the wayfarer had been her father when she’d seen his hands.

Her broken heart had wept with joy when thought she saw him. She’d thought that her father had cared enough to come rescue her unbidden. But knowing it was somefeather else who’d come to her aid, she didn’t know quite how to feel. On the one hand she’d finally confronted the hurt that had long lain buried within her, but on the other hand he hadn’t been the one to come to her aid. Even if her father hadn’t known of the peril she faced, would he have to come had he been made aware?

“Oh, Master Scourge,” she whispered, as the pain from the feelings of abandonment resurged with her heart.

“Are you alright?” she heard an unfamiliar voice ask.

Looking behind her, she saw the wayfarer looking down at her with concern. He wore a kind smile and held out his hand to help her to her feet. Grabbing hold of it, she felt a slight flutter in her heart when his warm strong hand wrapped around hers. His smile warmed her heart as he raised her up. Looking at him, she realized how handsome he actually was and began blushing furiously.

“Do you need water?” he asked with concern, noticing her flushed condition.

“Ah, please,” she said, slightly embarrassed how she was acting in front of somefeather she didn’t know.

“Okay, follow me,” he instructed.

Returning to the slaver’s captured camp, she saw that all the slavers had been placed inside the cages. The wayfarer had been busy organizing them as they were breaking down the camp in preparation to leave. All around her ponies, griffins, and the odd donkey were moving the cages onto boats to move back onto the ship. She wondered why they weren’t abandoning their captors to the mercy of the elements locked in their cages.

Handing her a water skein, his warm brown eyes looked into hers. “They need to face justice for their sins,” he explained, looking out onto the sea.

“I’m Aria, the Red, of the Diamond Vale,” she said, introducing herself with a slight bow.

She saw him wrestling with himself for a moment, and he thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “I’m no one of any note,” he replied, looking towards the vast untamed wilds of the East. “It’s best if you forgot you ever saw me.”

“Okay…” she said, wondering why he’d refused to name himself.

“So, Aria, how did you get mixed up with this lot?” he asked, motioning towards the captured slavers.

“I came upon them by accident as I traveled to Shadehoof,” she explained, wondering what her rescuer’s story truly was.

“That was a bit of bad luck for them, eh?” he said with a wink, as he took back the water skein.

“So what now?” she asked, feeling slightly flustered by him.

Freely drinking from the skein, the wayfarer wiped off his mouth. “Well most of these folks were stolen away from Equestria and Autumn,” he said, pointing towards the freed slaves. “And so we’ve decided to commandeer the ship and head north, first to Shadehoof to unload this wicked lot, and then further north to see everyone reunited with their families. If you wish you can join us to Shadehoof at least.”

“I think I’d like that,” Aria said with a demure smile, grateful for the chance to know this unknown wayfarer better.

“Well then it’s decided,” he said, offering her hand. “Aria, welcome to our impromptu crew.”

Taking his offered hand, she clasped it with hers and felt her heart beginning to race. “Alright, Captain,” she agreed, picking up the unicorns forgotten tricorne hat and offering it to him.

“Captain, I think I like the sound of that,” he replied, placing the hat on his head. “First mate, Aria, supervise things here while I go collect my things.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” she said, offering him a salute.

The wayfarer nodded and began walking off into the distance, as she saw him offer her one last friendly wave goodbye before cresting a sandy dune. Watching him disappear from sight, her heart demanded that she get to know him better. Thank you, my captain, she sighed to herself, before moving to help the rest of the crew with their preparations to depart.

*****

She was beside herself with worry. Cradling her unconscious husband’s head with her hooves, she rocked him back and forth as she waited for help to arrive. If only she’d respected his boundaries, then maybe this calamity wouldn’t have intruded upon their happy home. She’d had no desire to harm him, but to share with him the great love she held in her heart for him. Her only desire had been to be closer to him, as only a wife could be with her husband.

But instead of reciprocating her devotion and desire, he had rebuffed her once more. Furious at having been jilted once more by her reticent lover, she’d put forth her claim to his affections, and demanded her due. True her anger had run hot, but wouldn’t any wife who’d been so unjustly denied by the one they loved? Her fury was not without cause, and her demands had been just. However, she’d not meant to drive him unto torpor in her anger, but only to remind him of his pledge to her as her husband.

Touching her head to his, she freely wept as she worried for his fate. She had no idea what to do if he didn’t awaken from his coma. Gently she kissed his forehead as she whispered her great love for him into his ear. Placing him down on the bed, she laid down beside him, watching his chest rise and fall as he slowly breathed. Laying her ears back, she rested her head on his shoulder, and wished there was something she could to save him from the foul curse that befallen them.

If only you held his heart, Luna, the voice spoke, interrupting her sorrow. Then he’d have no choice but to love you as you so richly deserve.

Nay, we wert a selfish foal to demand he do so, she replied, as tears of regret wet her cheek. Hads’t we been ever patient with him, he woulds’t hast seen that our devotion wast naught but true.

Luna, you have deceived yourself, the voice sternly admonished her. He will never love you by his own choice, you know this to be true.

Lies! she cried out, unwilling to admit the possibility that she was doomed to suffer through another loveless marriage. He dost loveth us. We hast seen it firsthoof for ourself.

Prove it, princess, the voice challenged. Convince me that the Slave King holds even the slightest bit of affection for you, and I’ll not naysay you further.

The wondrous night we shared beneath mine moon, she answered, fondly remembering the brief time they had spent together alone beneath her moon’s silvery glow. He called us beauteous and magnificent. He revealed to us his true self, hidden beneath his crown of iron. He admitted to us then, that he preferred our night to sister’s day.

But didn’t he also make a flower for your sister? the voice countered, reminding her that the Slave King had never offered as lovely a gift.

Twas naught but a trifling trinket, Luna huffed, recalling how annoyed she’d felt when Celestia had shown off the blossom the Slave King had placed in her mane. Besides, we wert invited to enjoin with our husband during his renewal. Sister hast not enjoyed the pleasure, and the moment we shared together, twas true love’s first kiss.

But wasn’t that the kiss you stole from him? the voice pointed out, reminding her that it was she who had initiated the kiss and not the Slave King.

Mine beloved bequeathed to us a double portion of our shared heartfelt passion, she protested, thinking back to when but for his compassionate aid, she would have surely fallen prey to her doubt and fear. If thou remembereth, cynic, if not for our husband’s kindness twoulds’t be Minoa and not we who wert destined to be his bride and helpmeet.

Perhaps, but wasn’t it Luna the Black, and not Luna the Beautiful, that beat poor Lady Minoa to a pulp? the voice matter-of-factly said, recalling that she’d only won by embracing the darkness within her.

Thou sorely provoked us into succumbing to the shadow’s thrall with thy creulty, Luna protested, feeling ashamed at how easily she’d fallen to the temptation to use the darkness for her own ends. Besides, our beloved defended our honor from Cerynitis’s beastly tantrum, and gladly fought with him for our hoof in marriage.

Yet he still doubted the purity of your intentions, the voice reminded her. At the altar did he not demand an answer to the question, “Why do you wish to marry me?”

Yet he did marry us all the same! Luna shouted, afraid of what the voice might say next.

But he had no choice in the matter, didn’t he, Luna? the voice said, wearing down her resistance to its words. Thanks to the Law, he could’ve married anypony, even your sister, and satisfied its demands.

Never! Celestia shalt never have him, Luna fumed, furious at the thoughts of her husband being spirited away by her sister and being left all alone once more. Our husband loveth us in his heart of hearts, we knowest it with a surety. Dids’t he not take our cutie mark as his own as a sign of his everlasting devotion? What say you now, doubter? Where art all thine pricking words and slander?

Luna, would a stallion that loved you as you think he does, recoil in fear and revulsion at the very sight of you? the voice pointedly asked, showing her the fear and hate the Slave King had held for her on their wedding night.

Confronted by the hurtful memories of her husband’s rejection of her, Luna broke down and wept into her hooves. Why won’t he love us? she mourned, fearful that her heart was destined to be barren for the next thousand years.

Why should he love you? the voice demanded. As far as he’s concerned, you are your sister’s agent, and the entire wedding was nothing but a means to an end. Namely controlling him, and making him and the Domain of Earth Celestia's plaything.

Celestia… Luna growled, furious that she’d failed to foresee this turn of events as a pawn in her sister's game.

Yes, Celestia has brought this misery down upon you, the voice agreed. But consider this, if you were to capture the Slave King’s heart and show him that you weren’t her obedient puppet. Perhaps then he might see fit to love you.

Yes, and how do you suggest we do such? Luna testily asked, wiping away her tears. Our beloved’s heart hast gone missing, tis the most likely cause of the foul curse that hast befallen him.

That’s true, Luna, the voice said, offering her a vision of that fateful night. But there’s still a piece of it to be had.

Thou meanest the Nightmare? Luna said, remembering how the Slave King and the foul terror had momentarily became one to reignite his dying spark of divinity.

Yes, if Nightmare can fuse with one god, why not another? Why not you? the voice suggested, reminding her that both she and the Slave King's domains lay rooted in shadow. You’re her mistress, are you not? Command her to join with you, and then claim his heart for yourself. Then with his heart in your possession, you will possess all the knowledge you need to force him to submit to your desires.

We coulds't never do such an evil thing, she protested, aghast at the idea. And what of Nightmare, she art our husband’s servant, he woulds’t be most sore shoulds’t she come to harm.

You’ve said it yourself, he’s a stallion, and all stallions have needs, even the Slave King, the voice pointed out, urging her to take the first step down this dark path. Didn’t you consider breaking him less than an hour ago, and besides after the first few times, I don’t think he’ll be so resistant to your charms. As for Nightmare, she’s a menace, a relic from an earlier age that should've been put down ages ago.

Hmm, Luna mused, debating the merits of the voice’s arguments. On one hoof she was fairly certain that should her husband agree to lay with her as he ought, her skills in lovemaking would ensure he would eagerly agree to share a bed with her nightly. But on the other hoof, forcing him to be with her against his will would make her no better than that deviant sex fiend Minoa.

However the voice’s suggestion that wrest control of the Slave King’s heart from Nightmare was more palatable. She didn’t necessarily have to take it from her, but if she could at least capture a glimpse of what secrets it held, she could better serve and hopefully love her beloved as he so desperately needed. He’d once admonished her, Wife, how could I possibly love, someone I don’t know? She knew he was right, until she truly understood him, she couldn’t begin loving him the way he needed to be.

Alright, we agree with thee, friend, Luna said, hoping it wasn’t a mistake following its advice. We shalt seek after the heart Nightmare holds.

Excellent, the voice said, pleased that she was going to take its suggestion. Once you’ve eliminated Nightmare, there will be nopony to stand in your way.

Nay, we shalt not commit murder to satisfy our wants, no matter how greatly we desireth them, Luna said, refusing to commit such a heinous act. Nightmare mayest be a foul terror, but our beloved entrusted her to our care as our servant. So we shan’t betray his trust. Instead we shall peer into the heart she holds, and inscribe all its secrets onto our own heart.

“What happened, Mistress?” she heard from behind her.

Getting off the bed, she was relieved when she saw that Scourge had answered her summons.

“Friend Scourge,” she said, feeling gladdened that she didn’t have to face this crisis alone. “Mine husband has fallen into torpor, and refuseth to awaken.”

The ghostly doom hound approached his fallen friend and master, and sniffed him twice as he examined his prone form. “I’m not sure why he’s entered torpor,” he admitted, giving Luna a thoughtful look. “He’s never entered it so soon after a renewal before.”

“Shoulds't we allow our lord time to recovereth of his own accord?” she asked, unsure how to proceed.

“Mistress, we’ll do whatever you think best,” Scourge said with a slight bow.

Now that she had a chance to clear her head, the prospect of having the Slave King be in such a state wasn’t so disconcerting. As deities, they all went into torpor for varying reasons and lengths of time. In this case, her husband’s rest might be no different. Besides, it might be nice to relieve herself from the stress of serving her stubborn and uncooperative mate’s needs for a time, allowing her the chance to acquaint herself with her new domain and people.

However, before she could begin planning her newfound freedom from her husband, a great, haunting howl echoed through the air around them.

“Pray tell, friend Scourge, what manner of evil wast that?” Luna asked with concern, wondering what new calamity was to befall them.

“Something has agitated Cerberus,” Scourge replied, walking out onto the balcony overlooking the city.

Joining him, Luna didn’t see anything at first, but off in the distance, hidden by the shadows of the ruined city she saw a bit of movement.

“Who goes there?” she bellowed, allowing her booming voice to echo through the dead city.

In the darkness of the ruins it was quiet, but one by one, floating lights began appearing all over the city. Slowly they approached the palace grounds, as more and more lights began lighting up.

“Harmony’s wards,” Scourge growled, peering into the darkness. “It appears somehound wishes to play.”

“Art our people in any danger?” she worriedly asked, concerned for all the ponies she’d summoned to serve her in her new home.

“No. Fear not, Mistress, the wards should hold,” Scourge said, looking up at her. “After what happened with the ghast, Harmony took extra precautions. Besides, even if some of them manage to get past the wards she put in place, we have places of safety and refuge for the living to retreat to, while we sweep the vermin from within the palace walls.”

Relieved that she wouldn’t lose half her staff to some undead monstrosities ravenous appetite, she decided to return to her husband’s side. Before she could turn around, seemingly every ward around the palace’s perimeter lit up simultaneously.

“Oh dear,” Scourge murmured, placing his paws on the railing. “It appears I’ve spoken to soon.”

“What’s wrong?” she worried asked, feeling her previous trepidation returning with a vengeance.

“It appears, Mistress, we are being besieged by the dead,” he said, pointing towards the darkness.

Unable to see as clearly as Scourge’s ghostly eyes, she lit up her horn and released a spell high into the air. With a large explosion, the air lit up, illuminating the dead city below. What she saw broke her spirit and filled her heart with dread. Undead of all kinds were preparing to fall on the palace with a vengeance, having been discovered by her magic they let out a ghastly wail. Their moans and cries filled the air, letting the living know that all the restless hosts of the Pit had come calling to exact their revenge.

The skeletal remains of dragons, relics from the short lived dragon siege five hundred years prior, waded through the undead throng. In their wake, they crushed buildings and fellow undead alike with nary a concern for any but their purpose, bringing down the wards protecting the palace.

“Summon thy forces, Scourge,” Luna commanded, knowing that she was all that stood in the way of the ravenous undead horde descending upon their gate. “We must stop them before they devour all in their wake. For after consuming the palace, they wilt undoubtedly seek out the inhabitants of the Neo Vale.”

Nodding in agreement, he placed his armored paw upon the communication gem affixed to the wall. After a few moments he shook his head and frowned. “Mistress, all lines of communication to the city have been cut,” he said, looking to his master’s unconscious form. We won’t be receiving any reinforcements from the city unless we send out a messenger.”

“Cans’t we do anything?” Luna asked, unsure how to proceed due to her limited experience in defending against the undead.

“I’ve already sent word to Harmony, she has begun evacuating the palace into the manufactorium,” he said, as he began send more messages through the gem.

Cerberus let out another terrible howl in the distance, sending a shiver through her spine. Luna peered off into the darkness, wondering what other terrors lay hidden in the dark of the cursed city of the dead. Before she could give much thought to the guardian of the Pit and the gates it defended, the draconic remains had reached the wards protecting the palace. Without a second thought, the great rotting bulks slammed into the magical barrier with a massive boom.

The shockwaves of their repeated onslaught against the wards, caused the palace to shake and even the great city itself. With each repeated boom and the resulting quaking nearly sending her to her knees, she began cursing her luck. Had she not know better, she would’ve assumed the end of creation was nigh. Hoping to buy them some time, she reared up on her back hooves and released a powerful spell into the barrier guarding them hoping to strengthen and reinforce it.

The next strike by the undead siege weapons was nearly cataclysmic. When the great lumbering beast next slammed into the barrier, the repulsion shook the dead city so greatly that it threatened to bring down the broken lava dome above their heads. Broken by the powerful reverberation, the undead dragons began crumbling into pieces. Looking down victoriously at the monstrosities that thought to invade her home, her relief shortly turned to dread as the dread monstrosities began slowly reforming themselves to begin the attack anew.

“Blast it all to the Pit,” she cursed, wishing her husband was here to tell her what she should do. “Dost these devils knowest not whence to quit.”

“If only we could send them there,” Scourge agreed, placing his paw to his muzzle. “Unfortunately, Mistress, the undead can be rather relentless. Especially when it concerns the Slave King.”

“Ah yes, felling the city in his wrath in a single day,” she said, acknowledging their rightful rancor. “What cans’t we do to quell their fury, to assuage their anger?”

“Likely nothing,” Scourge answered, looking towards the Slave King. “When the city fell, so many perished so suddenly that rage and hatred overtook many of them in death. Because their souls are weighed down by their hate for him, most could never reach the Summerlands unaided.”

“So diplomacy is out of the question then?” she asked, hoping there was another way open to them.

“Mistress, in all my years since my return,” he said, placing his paw on the gem. “I’ve never seen any undead open to reason.”

Returning to her husband’s side, she cradled him in her hooves. “Beloved, please wake,” she implored, cursing herself for having endangering their domain with her thoughtless impatience. “Thy people needeth thy succor and protection.”

Worried and unsure what to do, she looked back to the shambling hoard attacking the weakening barrier. Deciding that if no answer came soon she would stand in the Slave King’s stead as the domain’s protector and guardian. Suddenly the door opened, and in walked Nightmare. She only gave Luna a sideways hate filled glare before turning her attention to the Slave King briefly and then in turn, to Scourge.

Luna couldn’t quite understand the means Nightmare used to communicate with him, but supposed it had something to do with their origins as creations of the Slave King. She saw the barely concealed hate filled looks she was giving her and knew that she blamed her for her husband’s condition.

“Mistress,” Scourge rumbled, as the blue light from his ghostly form grew dimmer.

“Yes, Scourge?” she asked, wondering what dire news Nightmare had come to bare.

“Calamity is upon us and all creation,” he said, looking worriedly towards the city. Once more Cerberus howled.

“What coulds’t be more calamitous then this siege of death falling upon us?” she asked, dreading the answer.

“The Unmentionable One has revealed himself to Nightmare,” he said, placing his paw upon the gem once more. “Tiroc is coming, and he intends to destroy us all.”

“Tiroc!” Luna exclaimed, recoiling in fear at the very idea of the destroyer being loosed upon the world once more.

“Yes,” Scourge sadly replied. “Only the Slave King can bar his way from the Pit now, and if we can’t revive him in time…”

“It will be the end of all things,” Luna finished, as Cerberus’s howls and the swelling wails of the vengeful dead filled the air.

Somewhere in the deep, dark recesses of the earth beyond all mortal comprehension or reckoning, the peals of a loud, devilish laughter echoes through that terrible, fell place, signaling his inevitable return, and with it the end of all things.

Author's Note

Thank you gentlereader for reading chapter eleven of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, as always comments are appreciated.

Well what do you know, and update and it hasn't even been six months yet. I jest I know, but I'm happy this chapter didn't take nearly as long as the previous one to write. But enough about that gentlereader, you didn't come here to listen to me ramble, but to read exciting tales of adventure. So without further ado we return to our tail.

We finally find out what happened to Aria as she struggled to free herself from those demented slavers and psychotic seapony. And what was up with Barbed Hook? She seemed rather attached to Aria's knife in a disconcerting way, it kind of makes you wonder how many other knives she might have stashed away amongst her pirates booty.

Dawson too makes his return, after being absent for several chapters. Only having just returned home with his mother, it appears that the wanderlust bug has bitten him once more and he off on another adventure of self discovery. We can only hope that Elrik doesn't get into too much trouble for losing the treatise so carelessly.

We finally discover the origins of the Unknown Wayfarer, it was Elrey all along! And given the song has him wearing black and green, and his family is dead, is he Equestria's version of Batman? We'll just have to wait and see if he's given to brooding on rooftops in his spare time and wearing a utility belt to accessorize.

And as for Nightmare and Luna, it appears the both the voice and Tiroc have the same idea. Kill one another. Like the Highlander, there can be only one. When the dust settles and the victor emerges, who will left standing and who will dead? But more importantly will the Slave King manage to finish his nap time before the vengeful dead get ahold of him?

But you have to give it to Tiroc, what a magnificent bastard. Playing all the angles, and even though he's outnumbered has seemingly succeeded in securing his escape from the Pit. Will he get out, can anypony stop him?

Find out the answers to these questions and more, in the next exciting chapter of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, coming soon to computer near you!

Once again, gentlereader, thank you for reading and all your kind words and support. You make writing worthwhile. Until next time!

Chapter 14: Of Betrayal and...

The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter

A Story by TalonMach5

Chapter 14: Of Betrayal and...

He looked up from his humble yet welcome breakfast. Food here was a bit on the bland side, but the blandest meal from the run down inn they were staying in, sure beat the lean rabbits and wild herbs they’d been eating on their journey as they’d limped back to civilization. Even though they could only afford straw nests with the meager funds from their impoverished purse. The warm, dry room they’d been sharing was a welcome change from braving the fierce elements unprotected out in the wild hinterlands they'd been forced to endure.

Together, they’d been forced to make the journey by talon and claw rather than wing, as they made their way through the untamed Highlands of Autumn. Although he supposed that he should’ve been grateful for their safe arrival here, whenever he thought about the one who was the cause of their predicament, it brought a scowl of fury to his beak. That pegasi slaver scum! It was his fault that he’d ended up a wreck, and if not for the kindness of an unknown stranger, had almost been responsible for his sister’s death as well.

He almost regretted the fateful choice he’d made earlier that week to confront him for his crimes. Almost, but not quite. He was still a griffin after all, and though his clan’s numbers might’ve been reduced to just himself and his sister, the pride of Clan Gold Dawn needed to be answered for. Especially since their mother had been stolen away from them by an unfeeling mudslinger slaver years ago. He’d been too weak and young to do anything to save their mother back then, but now that he was strong he had the power to avenge their mother’s loss, or at least he’d though he had.

Back in the tavern when he’d first seen the pony, his heckles had risen in distaste at the pegasus’ unwelcome intrusion into what he felt should be a griffin only bar. Of course he’d not much more then give him the cold shoulder, after all he wasn’t an unfeeling thug like the cruel mudslingers. Equestrian’s in Autumn weren’t altogether uncommon, pony merchants often made their way through their territory, eagerly hawking their wares in the hope of making some bits. And even if he personally found their race distasteful, the trade they brought with them was needful here in their resource scarce domain.

He wasn’t quite sure what had prompted him to confront the pegasus in the first place. The pony wasn’t even a unicorn like the one who’d stolen away his mother, for Zephyr’s sake! Perhaps it was the cheap, watered down beer he’d been drinking, or maybe it was the frustration at his clan’s current impoverished predicament. His clan had been great once. Powerful, wealthy, and greatly respected, Clan Gold Dawn had a storied history in the Domain of Air. Less than five generations prior, the clan’s head had even been a member of Lady Zephyr’s council. But now, he and his sister Raine, were all that remained of their clan.

Which was why picking a fight with the pegasus over the imagined slight had been foolish. He didn’t know if the pony had friends, or if he was a skilled warrior, all he knew he was angry at the world and thought the pony would be an easy target. Angry looks and ruffled feathers had escalated to shoving against one another, and before he knew it, the pegasus’ pack had shifted to the side, revealing what the pony had sought to keep hidden. He saw it there proudly displayed on his flank, the unmistakable mark of the Slave King. The same mark the wicked unicorn slavers had so proudly worn as they claimed his mother as their newest slave, as all he could do is silently weep as he held his talons over his sister’s beak to silence her as they hid in the shadows from the unicorns’ greedy eyes.

Back then he’d been but a child, too weak to fly, let alone defend his mother from the slavers. He supposed then he’d lost all reason as he flew into a murderous rage at the pegasus. He hadn’t even known what the pony’s business was there, or even if he was involved in the slave trade at all. All he knew that this was chance that he’d been waiting for, the opportunity to do what his younger self was incapable of. Avenging his mother’s capture and enslavement.

Calling out to Raine to join him, they chased after the pony as he tried escaping them. He remembered the frantic chase through the town, and scowled. Had he been smarter, he could’ve asked for help and waylaid the pony outside town before he had the chance to escape. Instead, he’d let his anger cloud his judgment, and instead of avenging his mother, he’d almost lost his sister to the mudslinger’s vicious tactics. Discovering him hidden inside a large cloud he thought he would make short work of his prey, but instead of being an easy target the pony had turned out to be a skilled warrior. Outnumbered and seemingly outmatched by two much larger opponents, the pegasus skillfully dispatched his sister with ease, before retreating into the depths of a thorny thicket to escape a just retribution.

As she helplessly fell, he saw the terror reflected in his sister’s eyes, and abandoned the chase. It was only due to sheer force of will that he was able to rescue her from falling to her death on the meadow below. Although he’d managed to save her from crashing, she was still in terrible condition. The pegasus’ iron shoes had ripped up her back something fierce, and she was going into shock. Seeing her wounds, he’d wanted to give up the chase then and there, but she had other ideas. Thinking she wouldn’t make it, Raine had made him swear an oath to avenge her.

Promise me, Len! she’d demanded, panting and groaning in pain from her wounds. Promise me you’ll avenge me.

It tore at his heart to leave her such a sorry state, but what else could he do? She’d demanded a blood oath from him, and as her brother he was honor bound to fulfill it. Nodding in agreement, he left his heart behind as he tried to catch up with his prey. However he was stymied once more. Once cornered, the pony had baited him. Before enacting his vengeance he’d felt the need to confront the pony for what he and his foul brethren had taken from him. He’d naively thought that once confronted, the slaver might display some small bit of remorse or silver of regret for their collective sins before meeting their end at his beak and talons. But instead of begging for mercy and forgiveness, the pegasus had mocked him for failing to save his mother and sister from being taken away from him.

Blinded by his hate and rage, he lost his chance, and the pegasus managed to escape through a narrow spot in the thicket. Unable to follow after his quarry, he’d released a primal cry of fury as the mudslinger escaped into the safety of the thicket’s thorny darkness. He swore then by the first egg, and by the honor of his ancestors, an unbreakable oath to personally slay him. Eager to fulfill his oath so he could hurry back to his sister’s side, he stalked after the pony as best he could, ignoring the sharp, piercing pain of the thicket’s thorns as they pierced his hide, freely drawing his blood.

When he came upon the pegasus for the third time, luck was with him, for his ancestors had delivered his hated foe into his talons. Unaware of his presence, the pony rested against the trunk of a large thorn as he nursed his wounds. However, instead of using this opportunity to his advantage, he’d foolishly squandered it as he fantasized at how enjoyable killing the pony would be. His lack of action was his downfall, the pony wasn’t alone. His companion was a diminutive pony like creature with gossamer wings. He didn’t recognize her race, and held no ill will towards her. His only desire was fulfilling his oath so that he could return to his sister’s side before she invariably perished.

Dismissive of the tiny creature’s small stature, he ignored her warnings as he moved in for the kill. The pegasus plead for her to flee, but she ignored him and defiantly stood between him and his rightful prey. Once more she threatened him, and in response to her audacity, he knocked her aside with a flick of his talon. With that annoyance having been taken care of, he returned his attention to his prey. All he could do was think murderous thoughts as drew closer to the pony who’d wronged him so. But instead of the satisfying crunch of his talons crushing the pony’s head, he felt himself being violently knocked aside by magic back into the thicket. Landing against a particularly large thorny trunk, he looked up at her in disbelief. Stunned and disoriented, he tried to stand but found himself wracked with pain.

In his current state he was in no condition to face them, especially against a foe which possessed such potent and powerful magic. Raging in fury at having been denied his vengeance once again, he barked out a half-hearted threat before slinking off in shame at his impotence and repeated abject failures in avenging his fallen kin. Limping away through the dense underbrush of the thorny forest, his heart sunk when he thought of his poor sister whom he’d left alone and undefended on the grassy knoll outside this horrid thicket.

Slowly but surely, he fought his way through the biting thorns that had barred his path and impeded his progress from reaching the edges of this hateful place. Weak and tired, bruised and bleeding, his pain, it didn’t matter, he kept pressing on. Thoughts of Raine, the only kin he had left in the world, filled his heart with worry and his mind with dread. In his mind he saw her laying on her side, shallowly breathing, as cruel, unfeeling death slowly stalked his dying sister. Utterly alone and having been abandoned by the only family she still had left, she released a sorrowful cry of mourning. As the scene played out in his mind, his heart became heavy and cheeks grew wet. She was going to die and there was absolutely nothing he could do now to save her from her unkind fate.

Raine… I’m so sorry. Forgive me… he said to himself, lowering his head as he wept, ashamed that he’d failed her last dying request.

Wishing that he could wallow in self-pity, despair, and sorrow, he thought about laying down and just giving up. However, before he succumbed to the temptation, he heard his sister’s stern, reproaching voice echoing in his mind.

Len, don’t you dare lay down! she sharply commanded him, as he felt himself squirming under her disapproving gaze.

I just can’t go on anymore, he replied, lowering his head in defeat. Sister, I’ve failed you.

What of your oath, or of our clan’s pride? she demanded, refusing to accept his excuses. Don’t you dare go giving up on me, brother!

Hearing her firm rebuke steeled his resolve to return to her side, and so reinvigorated by her words, he pushed on, ignoring his own pain and grief as he resolved to return to sister to offer her last rites as befitted a good and proper griffin. And so he made his way through the dense foliage of the thorny thicket. As the hours passed, he slowly but surely made his way back under the open, clear skies of Autumn as he finally escaped the cruel, biting thorns of the claustrophobic thicket. Finally free from the dark oppression of the prickly grove, he looked up at the open skies overhead and praised the Maelstrom for his release.

With his prayer of gratitude complete, he began scanning the horizon, looking for any familiar landmarks he could use to aid him in returning to his sister’s side. The tall, golden grass covering the planes surrounding the thicket made locating anything familiar difficult, and he desperately wished he possessed strength enough to take flight. But when he unfolded his wings and tried giving them an experimental flap or two he let out a sharp hiss of pain. Disappointed that he’d have to walk the entire circumference of the thicket to locate where he’d left his sister, he sighed before moving towards a large hill that lay to the south of him.

The world seemed to slow down to a crawl as trudged through the tall grass covering the plains of Autumn. The only thing that showed him the passage of time was the bright sun overhead slowly retreating towards the western horizon. Looking up into its blinding light, the griffin felt his fury awaken anew at that merciless mare who controlled it. Muttering a dark curse towards her and all her hateful ponies for the countless misery and hardship they’d foisted upon his people, he gritted his teeth and kept moving, knowing that if he failed to reach his sister’s side before the setting of the sun, she’d surely perish, and shortly so would he.

Looking to Darkpaw’s Spine in the east he imagined the shining city atop its peak, the Golden Eyrie, and lamented that he would like see its magnificence in this life ever again. He thought of his people’s long neglectful goddess and supposed guardian, Lady Zephyr, and lamented.

“Maelstrom, I implore you,” he prayed aloud as his shadow began to lengthen from the sun’s waning light. “Save your people. Aid us. Avenge our wounded pride. But if not, please at least save my sister, she’s all I have left!”

He looked towards the darkening heavens with faint hope. Deep inside his heart, the words rung hollow within his breast. He knew there would be no favor, relief, nor succor offered by his absent goddess. For the howling of his clan’s wind had all but fallen silent, and shortly would be no more. Climbing up the hill, he wondered if his fellow griffins well being merited any more than a passing thought. He thought surely not, or how else could she allow such injustices continue to persist unchecked or unchallenged within her domain? Cresting over the hilltop, he was relieved when he saw some familiar landmarks in the distance. The light was beginning to wane, but from his vantage point he felt confident in his ability to locate his sister’s resting place.

Feeling relief, he was about to offer thanks to the Maelstrom, but thought the better of it. It would be dark soon, and his sister had most certainly perished. Moving as best he could down the gentle slope of the hill, he moved in the direction he was sure she lay. Having finally accepted her death, his only regret was that he lacked the strength to build a bonfire to guide her path to the Summerlands as was the funerary custom of their people. Though he couldn’t aid her spirit in passing into the next life, he was determined to see to her body at least, even if he could only offer her a shallow grave.

He saw a large familiar stone poking up from the tall grass up ahead. This had been the place where he’d made the fateful decision to leave his sister’s side in search of vengeance. He lamented over his vain pride, and regretted ever agreeing to leave her alone in order to pursue the pegasus. Placing a lone talon on the stone which would serve as her grave marker, he steeled himself to face her cold, lifeless corpse. Although in his mind he knew she was almost certainly dead, his heart couldn’t bear to face such bitterness. Lowering his head in trepidation, the acrid, bitter smell of smoke wafting past his head and filled his beak with its aroma.

Instantly, all his fears and sorrow fell away, only to be replaced with anger and fury. Somefeather was there, intruding upon her resting place. Slowly he crept through the tall grass, silently stalking the unwary trespasser, and preparing to reproach them violently for their crime. Peering through the grass, he saw a fellow griffin laying on their side besides a small burning fire. The waning light made it difficult to identify them by their plumage and markings. He didn’t know who they were but was fairly certain that they were up to no good.

Out in the wilds of Autumn, far from civilization, many unsavory griffin bandits made these untamed places their home. Looking at them as they were lazing by the fire, it didn’t take much for him to imagine the wicked brute happening upon his sister and having their way with her. For his sister was very fair, and in her injured state would be a tempting prize nofeather would give a second thought about plundering for themselves.

Imaging the cruel indignities the fiend had undoubtedly visited upon her, his muscles tensed as he prepared to avenge his sister’s stolen virtue. Flexing his talons in anger, he ignored the burning pain in his wings and side, and prepared to lunge in for the kill. But before he could wreck his bloody vengeance upon her defiler, the griffin turned towards him. Reflected in the light of the small fire, he saw a pair of soft blue eyes looking at him. Blue eyes like she had once had. Catching sight of her markings and silvery feathers, he nearly wept, for his sister had been restored to him. Overjoyed that she’d survived, he’d embraced her, much to his sister’s chagrin and displeasure. He’d forgotten all about her many wounds, and had earned a fierce nip from her beak.

Smiling at the happy memory, he looked down at his empty bowl and finished the remnants of his half eaten griffin scone. Flexing his wings, he looked down at his coin purse, and gave it small jostle with his talon. Noticing how light it seemed, he opened it up and counted its contents. Only ten bits remained. Looking down sadly at the sorry affairs of their finances, he returned the coins to his pouch and was determined to find some work to renew their funds. Opening his satchel, he began sifting through its contents in search of his family’s coat of arms. He was certain that it would help convince somefeather of his worth and trustworthy of employment.

In the corner of the bag, he saw something he’d almost forgotten about, the one lone family heirloom he still possessed, a crystal bauble. Perfectly spherical and round, the bauble comfortably fit inside his talon. It shone brightly in the light, and if one looked closely enough, tiny golden specks could be seen floating within it. Supposedly this was the greatest of his clan’s treasures. It had been gifted to one of his ancestors by the Maelstrom herself, for Clan Gold Dawn’s great service to her. He’d been told once long ago by his mother, that the bauble was used to speak with their goddess and the other clan heads, but he had no clue if it actually worked or not.

Once, after having lost his mother, he’d tried using it to contact the other clans, but nofeather had ever answered him. He took it then that nofeather else considered his clan worth the bother. He’d even considered trying to sell it for bits, but had decided against it in the end. It was after all the one thing of value his clan still possessed, and he was determined that he would be a good steward of it. Giving the bauble one last look, he was about to return it to his satchel when he saw it beginning to glow with a soft golden light.

“What in the world?” he wondered, curious why the bauble was only now beginning to work.

He didn’t have to wonder for long, because before he speak another word the image of one of the most powerful griffins in all of the Domain of Air appeared before him.

“Len, of Clan Gold Dawn,” the wavering image said, looking him in the eye.

“Councilor Johan!” he shouted, surprised that such a great griffin knew who he was. “Forgive me, my lord, I hadn’t expected this bauble even worked.”

Councilor Johan offered him a slight smile. “Len, first allow me to offer my condolences regarding what happened to your mother.”

“My mother?” he replied, shocked that somefeather as powerful and influential as the Master of Laws would know of her fate.

“Yes, Len,” he said, nodding once, as he tapped his talons together. “Your mother was chicknapped by foul Equestrian slavers. I wish to apologize.”

“It happened long ago, councilor,” he replied, confused why only now he was being approached about this. “I’ve accepted what happened to her.”

“It’s unacceptable, Len, that something so terrible, happened to one of our once greatest clans,” he continued, looking down at his talons for a moment before continuing. “Although it’s long overdue, I wanted to personally offer you Lady Zephyr’s most sincere regrets and apology.”

“The Maelstrom herself is apologizing?” Len asked, dumbfounded that his deity not only knew about what had happened but was apologizing for it.

“Yes, Len,” he answered, looking him in the eye once more. “I’m happy to say that she’s finally decided to take action against the Slave King and those vile slavers for so brazenly stealing away our fellow brothers and sisters within our domain without pity or remorse.

“The Slave King…” Len growled, remembering the wicked pegasi agent that had bested him and nearly killed his sister in the process.

“Len, I too share in your anger with the Lord of Earth wickedness,” Johan said, clasping his talons together. “But soon his reign of tyranny here in the north will finally be at its end.”

“This is wonderful news, councilor,” he replied, grateful that he’d chosen to share the news with him. “I look forward to the day when that bastard finally faces justice for all his evil ways.”

“Len, I didn’t contact you, just to let you know about it,” he said, slightly pursing his beak. “Lady Zephyr needs your help.”

“She does?” he asked, wondering how one such as he could possibly aid the Lady of Air.

“Yes, she does,” Johan explained, conjuring up a map displaying the Domains of Air and Autumn. “Len, she has been betrayed by the feather closest to her, and if they aren’t stopped before it’s too late, I fear the Slave King will once again escape his just punishment.”

When he heard his words, a righteous fury began burning in his breast. “How can I help?” Len asked, prepared to give his all, even his life if it meant the Slave King would finally be stopped.

“The traitor stole a treatise vital to stopping the Slave King, with the intent to deliver it to somefeather in the Ziggurat of Knowledge,” he explained, highlighting the city on the map. “If he’s not stopped before he reaches his destination, the Slave King will discover what we’re trying to do and will take steps to stop us.”

“But certainly there are more suitable feathers for such an important mission,” Len protested, worried his strength wouldn’t be enough to succeed in such an important mission.

“Honestly that's true,” Johan agreed, nodding his head. “However the traitor’s identity is the reason why it must be you that stops him.”

“I don’t understand,” Len said, confused who it could be that required him to be the one.

“Because if any other were to be sent on this task, it would mean civil war,” Johan answered, giving him a grim look.

“Who could possibly cause a civil war?” he wondered, confused by the councilor’s concern.

“The traitor is Lady Zephyr’s son, Dawson,” he explained, looking away as he sighed. “He’s betrayed us all, everyfeather of us.”

“How could he betray his own mother like that?” he asked, shocked that he would do something so dastardly.

“He hopes to win the Slave King’s favor,” Johan said, clenching his beak angrily.

“That monster!” Len shouted, infuriated and incensed that the Maelstrom’s own son would willingly betray them for the Slave King. “How could he?”

“The Slave King is his father,” he coolly explained, tapping his talons together. “So you can see the problem.”

“I can’t guarantee his safety,” Len replied, feeling fury washing over him at the thought of a fellow griffin betraying them like that.

“That won’t be a problem,” Johan said, looking him directly in the eye. “You’ll have to kill him.”

“Kill him…” Len slowly said, starting to fill sick to his stomach.

“Lady Zephyr doesn’t have the heart to slay her son,” Johan continued, rapping his knuckles. “And if word was to get out that her own son had nearly sold them out, civil war amongst the clans for his betrayal would be inevitable. Len, the Domain of Air can’t afford to be fractured and disjointed at this time. We need to possess a unified front if we hope successfully stop the Slave King for good.”

“It’s because my clan is no more isn’t it?” Len asked, finally realizing exactly why the councilor had approached him with this difficult task.

“Yes, Len, if you killed Dawson and were discovered, there would be no war,” Johan agreed, sighing once more.

Len had never killed a fellow griffin before, and being asked to do so weighed heavily on his conscience. But surely such a terrible betrayal against their people was worthy of death. He thought once more of the mocking pegasus escaping justice and tightly clenched his talon in anger. But then he thought of his sister, and turned away from the councilor’s image.

“My sister…” he said, lowering his head. “I’m the only family she has left. If I were to die during this task, she’d be bereft of clan and kin.”

Johan gave the young griffin before him a thoughtful look. “Len,” he said, slowly stroking his beak. “If you agree to do this and succeed, I will personally see to it that lands, titles, and wealth are restored to your clan. Additionally, even if you fail or perish on this mission, I’ll find a worthy griffin from a prestigious clan for her to marry.”

When he heard his words, Len felt a calm envelop his heart. Agreeing to the councilor’s terms would finally fulfill his lifelong dream of restoring his clan to its former greatness. But more importantly, would allow him to strike fatal blow to the Slave King’s enslavement ring here in Autumn. Should he succeed, he could finally wipe away the shame he’d carried for so long in failing to save his mother from those heartless monsters wearing pony skins.

He was certain Raine wouldn’t forgive him for breaking his promise and leaving her alone in the world, but securing her the future she deserved was more important. As devoted to their goddess as she was, he was certain that Raine would never agree to the plan to slay the Maelstrom’s griffin-half son. She would demand that he face justice for his treachery instead. Normally he’d agree, a betrayal such as this needed to be brought to trial, but the chances of Autumn falling into civil war was too great, and should their people hope to finally stop the Slave King’s wickedness they would have to be firmly united.

“I’ll do it,” he said, hardening his heart and steeling his resolve. “If it means our people’s salvation, I will murder Dawson for you.”

“Thank you, Len,” the councilor said with a slight bow. “Although nofeather can know of your patriotism and sacrifice, I will remember and honor it.”

“Which path has Dawson taken to the Ziggurat of Knowledge?” he asked, as he began gathering his things.

“He’ll likely bypass the western passes to avoid detection,” Johan said, conjuring up a map.

“That would leave the northern and southern routes,” Len pointed out, tracing a talon along the paths displayed on the flickering map.

“A journey that long and arduous would require rest and resupply,” Johan said, pointing towards the southern route. “The border town of Grimm’s Rest is likely his first stop on his journey.”

“And if he went to the Crystal Domain instead?” he replied, well aware of the Slave King’s northernmost holding.

“It’s much too far for him to fly unaided,” Johan answered, shaking his head in disagreement. “Go to Grimm’s Rest and wait for him there, should I be mistaken, I will contact you to let you know.”

“I’ll leave immediately, councilor,” Len said, looking into the much older griffin’s eyes. “Remember your promise to my sister.”

“I’ve already dispatched a trustworthy feather to collect her,” Councilor Johan said with a nod. “I promise you, Len, your sister will be well provided for until a suitable mate can be provided for her.”

“Thank you for your aid, councilor,” he said, picking up his knife and offering it a thoughtful look before sliding it in its sheath and attaching it to his forearm. “May the Maelstrom forgive me.”

“May the Maelstrom forgive us all,” Johan replied with a small shake of his head before his image faded away into nothing.

Now with his fate set and die cast, Len attached his satchel firmly to his side before giving the room one last look. He placed a coin on the bed from his meager purse for his sister, should she need an extra night at the inn before the councilor’s feather could collect her, and exited the shabby room which had been his home these past few days. Without a second thought, he spread his wings and took to the warm, cloudy skies of his homeland.

Giving the slowly shrinking inn behind him one last look, he shut his eyes as a tear wet the feathers on his cheek. “Forgive me for leaving you, Raine…”

*****

Standing at attention with her companions in the antechamber, she felt slightly bored. Ever since she’d agree to serve him and enjoin with the others on this journey, she’d thought that she’d be embarking on an adventure. But instead of being assaulted by greedy dragons or enraged spirits, the most they’d had to contend with was uncordial and uncooperative civil servants. Not that she was complaining mind you, she’d had more than her fill of vengeful ghosts and changeling assassins to last her for a while.

No, she was more surprised that nopony had tried ambushing or waylaying them yet. Though she supposed that could be attributed to the banners they carried as their pennants. Her companion, Gunhilde, the reindeer battlemage, held aloft with her magic a flag depicting a crescent moon superimposed over a dark blue field of stars, an offer of protection from the Lady of Night herself, Luna the Beautiful. Standing to her right, was Chrysalis, Gunhilde’s diamond dog charge, proudly holding the colors of her master, a stylized silver and black image of the Slave King’s brand over green. But that wasn’t all, she herself held the colors of her liege lord. A pair of crossed silver tridents on a blue back.

These three flags showed they held the full backing of three of the most powerful deities on the Pantheon, and so it was little wonder why the most they had to contend with so far on their journey was stubborn guards and unyielding gates. At first they’d meant to head straight towards the harbor to book passage north, but her charge, Melody the Yellow in an attempt to gain entrance into the city had tried using intrigue and subterfuge to get past the guard, only to fail when she was unable to prove her claims.

However in the end, it was the bitch that had somehow convinced the adamant guard to let them pass. She wasn’t quite sure how she’d managed to do it, Chrysalis had only given her a smirk and glib answer in turn when she’d asked her how she’d so easily persuaded the guard to grant them passage. If she didn’t know any better, mainly due to how quick she’d been with the guard, she was nearly convinced that the diamond dog was as skilled a seductress as any changeling might be.

Changelings… Ugh, even the mere thought of one, made her blood boil and scales uncomfortably itch. Ever since her first meeting with that wicked changeling saboteur back at Bone’s Landing, any thoughts about changelings in general and that beast in particular, made her wounded pride and unavenged honor demand that she balance the scales of justice, and for good reason too. Her people held a strong enmity towards the despicable changeling race, and all her interactions with that thief and assassin had done nothing to lessen her own distaste for their wretched and degenerate kind.

Giving the bitch a thoughtful look, she wondered if she might possibly be a changeling in disguise. It was certainly an intriguing idea. Her knowledge of the changeling they’d fought against in the Slave King’s treasury was uncanny. Only somepony highly skilled in changeling lore, could’ve known what she’d had. But then again, given how little she knew of her traveling companions, perhaps any one of them could be one of those devious creatures.

“Do I have something on my muzzle, chevaleresse, or do you happen to fancy a roll in the sack with me?” Chrysalis teased, noticing the looks the seapony was giving her.

“I desire nothing of the sort!” she protested, her cheeks flushing crimson at the very idea of engaging in such indecent acts with the winsome bitch.

“Don’t be afraid, Squall,” she smirked, giving her a saucy grin. “I promise I won’t bite… Much.”

“Save the pillow talk for the bedchamber later, lovebirds,” Melody admonished while wearing a slight grin. “Remember where you are.”

“Yes, bored out of my mind waiting for the city’s governor to show up,” Chrysalis moaned, folding her paws across her chest.

“We are here, acting as official representatives of the Slave King after all,” Melody said, shaking a finger disapprovingly at the hound.

“A fat lot of good that did in getting us past the guard and through the gates,” Chrysalis replied, dismissively rolling her eyes.

“Be that as it may, Chrysalis,” Gunhilde countered, we don’t want to end up embarrassing the Slave King before the governor.

“Yes,” Melody agreed with a nod.

“Okay, fine, I got it,” Chrysalis agreed, giving them another smirk. “No more debauchery or licentiousness, I promise I’ll be the pinnacle of chastity and virtue.”

“Well at least until after we’ve been greeted by the governor,” Melody replied with a cheeky grin. “He is a prince after all.”

“Oh, the governor is that Prince Blueblood?” Gunhilde asked, leaning against her standard.

“Well technically he’s an ex-prince,” Melody explained, lightly tapping her foot against the marble floor. “Celestia revoked his title after his tenure as the Equestrian diplomat to the Diamond Vale came to an end.”

“Oh, really? Do tell, Melody!” Chrysalis excitedly asked, salivating at the chance to hear some juicy gossip.

“Well…” Melody began before hearing the door to the antechamber opening up. “Sorry, girls, I’ll have to tell you about it later.”

As the door inwardly open by magic, in walked a large white unicorn. Giving the group a cursory glance, he looked at them apprehensively. But upon seeing Melody, his blue eyes opened wide, as he offered her a cheery smile. Visibly relieved by her presence, he seemed to relax and walked behind his desk before taking a seat. Rolling his shoulders, he picked up a document lying on his desk and gave it a cursory glance. Seemingly satisfied, he placed it down in front of him, and gave Melody an expectant look.

“So tell me, Melody, how’s your sister been?” the unicorn asked, holding in his breath as he waited for her answer.

“Well, governor, you know how Harmony can be,” she replied, giving him a coy smile.

“Governor?” he asked, feigning hurt at her formality. “Love, I thought we were friends.”

“Oh, Blueblood,” she replied, giving him a cheeky smile. “You degenerate old so and so, I was just teasing.”

“You little minx,” he retorted, sticking out his tongue at her. “So I hear you and your entourage are part of some sort of official inquest regarding the recently discovered slave smuggling occurring here in the city?”

“Well not quite exactly, Blueblood,” she reluctantly admitted.

“Not exactly?” he asked, arching his brow as he levitated several documents up off from his desk. “Melody, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Oh no, Blueblood,” she answered wearing a nervous smile. “Well not really.”

Giving her companions a hard look, he tapped the papers against the surface of the desk, before placing them in a neat pile to his left. Leaning back against his seat, he fidgeted in his seat trying to find a more comfortable position to sit in. Considering the four mares before him he decided to play it cool.

“So if you’re not part of the official inquiry, Melody,” he asked, lightly tapping his front hooves together. “Why did you feel the need to lie about it?”

“It seemed to be the simplest way to enter the city,” she replied, offering him a sheepish smile.

“You know, Melody,” he continued, opening the top drawer of his desk and removing a small crystal with his magic. “Given the circumstances, one might think you and your party had something to hide.

Examining the crystal globe being levitated before them, Melody noticed it bore a striking resemblance to the aetheric paperstop her sister kept on the desk in her office. The green and gold flecks floating inside cast a curious light, and she immediately thought of Harmony. Noting her interest, the governor placed the desk bauble in her outstretched hand. Looking into luminescent depths of the globe, she shook it once and watched as the flecks inside shimmered and shone with an etheric glow.

“You know, Blueblood, she still has hers,” she said, placing the paperstop atop a pile of papers on his desk.

“Is that so, Melody?” he replied, looking momentarily towards an easterly facing window before returning his attention to his unexpected guests.

“Yes she does,” she said, offering him a small smile.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Blueblood said, biting his lip before returning the crystal back to its drawer. “But enough about your sister for now, Melody. We really should return to the matter at hoof, the reason for you and your entourage’s visit.”

“Well, Blueblood,” she said, adjusting the satchel at her side. “Were you aware that the Slave King got married?”

“No, I wasn’t,” he answered, studying each of them as he rang a small bell on his desk.

“Yes, the Slave King recently got married to your aunt, Princess Luna,” she said, as a grey unicorn butler entered the room carrying a large covered silver tray.

“Auntie Luna married the Slave King of all ponies?” he wondered aloud, as the butler placed the tray before him. “How sudden, I never would’ve guessed she had designs on the south.”

“Well it certainly was unexpected, believe you me,” Melody said, placing her hands in her lap.

The butler removed the silver lid covering the tray, revealing an ornate tea set. A large tea kettle, four cups and saucers, silver spoons, a sugar bowl, and creamer were all at the ready. The distinct aroma of tea filled the room as the butler presented the tea caddy to his master.

“I think the special blend will do,” Blueblood said glancing towards a small door on the far wall.

“Of course, sir,” the butler said with a slight bow, before exiting the room.

Noticing the envious eyes of her entourage, he gave them a slight smile. “Melody, might I interest you and your friends with a bit of refreshment?”

“Thank you, Blueblood,” she replied, licking her beak.

“Well it’s not often that I get to entertain these days,” he replied as he began seeping the tea in the kettle. “Auntie Celestia always said sharing a pot of tea with guests was a sure way to gain new friends. Perhaps you might tell me more about yours?”

“Oh, certainly,” Melody said, gesturing to her left. “This is Dame Squall of Marelantis.”

Nodding once, Dame Squall slightly bowed her head. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, governor.”

“Oh please, love, call me Blueblood,” he said, getting up from his seat and kissing her fin. “All the ladies do.”

“I sense the governor wants to make more than your acquaintance, chevaleresse,” Chrysalis said with a smirk.

“Bitch, I see you have quite the witty and cunning tongue,” he said with a slight grin and mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Take me somewhere a bit more secluded and private, your lordship, and I can show you exactly how cunning my tongue can be,” Chrysalis replied with a teasing wink.

Gunhilde frowned in disapproval at her charge’s cavalier attitude with the governor and shot her a dirty look. “Governor Blueblood, please forgive our companion’s forwardness,” she said, looking towards the brand emblazoned on the changeling’s flank. “Chrysalis has little regard for proper etiquette.”

“Oh its fine, my lovely,” he said giving her a charming smile. “And might I have the pleasure of your name?”

“Gunhilde, cupbearer to the Slave King,” she said, lightly lowering her antlers to him.

“Cup bearer you say,” he said, giving her a curious look. “And, Dame Squall, the bitch mentioned you’re a chevaleresse? I take it in the service of the Lawgiver?”

“Ah yes,” she said with a nod. “I’m serving as Melody’s bodyguard, but I’m a member in good standing of The Most Illustrious Order of Triton the Lawgiver.”

“And the bitch…” he said, checking the tea leaves seeping in the kettle. Removing the kettle’s lid and inhaling the scent deeply, he exhaled before placing it back on the kettle.

“Now that would be telling, governor,” Chrysalis said, giving him a slight smile.

“So, cousin, tell me,” Blueblood said, returning to his seat and looking Melody directly in the eye. “Tell me why you’re really here.”

“Cousin, eh?” Melody asked with a bemused look on her face.

“Well actually, Melody, I believe it would be cousin-in-law,” he replied giving her and the others a thoughtful look. “My apologies on missing the wedding, had I known…”

“Had you known and shown up, Harmony might have done something regrettable,” she said interrupting him. “To say nothing of what your aunts or the Slave King might’ve done. What was it that Scourge promised to do to you if you ever stepped foot in the palace or Neo Vale again?”

Hearing her words reminded him of that ghostly terror and what he’d threatened to do should their paths ever cross again, sent a shiver running down his spine. He had no desire to relive the memories and quickly decided to change the subject.

Looking towards the tea kettle he frowned. “Blast! I seeped the tea for far too long, and now it’s ruined,” Blueblood said, knocking his hoof against his leg. “My apologies, ladies, allow me to remedy this shortly.”

Ringing the bell at his desk once more, he looked towards the small door once more. Moments later, the butler returned with another smaller tray in his magic’s hold. “Sir, the special blend you requested,” he said with an air of genteel sophistication, as he presented another tea caddy and piping hot kettle.

“Thank you, Foxglove,” the governor said with a slight smile. “Would you see to those arrangements we discussed earlier?”

“Are you quite certain, sir?” the butler said, giving Melody and her companions a cursory glance. “I’m afraid once done, there’s little that can be done to undo it.”

“Foxglove, I’m afraid there’s no other choice in the matter,” he said with some reluctance. “Here in the South its dog eat dog.”

“My apologies, sir, I understand,” the butler replied, giving his master a regretful look. “I’ll see to the arrangements straightaway.”

“Excellent, Foxglove,” Blueblood replied as he prepared a new pot of tea.

“Is there something worrying you, Blueblood?” Melody asked, concerned about their exchange.

“Oh, it’s nothing you need to worry about, cousin,” he replied, seeping the tea with his magic. “How do you prefer your tea? With sugar and cream?”

“Oh, yes please,” Melody answered with a smile.”

“And you, Dame Squall?” he asked, gesturing towards the sugar bowl. “Something sweet perhaps?”

“Two lumps or sugar and a generous dollop of cream please,” she said, eagerly looking forward to enjoying the fragrant tea.

“Only cream for me, governor,” Gunhilde said, stating her preference.

“I prefer mine plain,” Chrysalis said, shaking her head at the offered sugar cubes.

“Are you sure, love, the tea can be quite overwhelming by itself,” Blueblood said, gesturing towards the creamer.

“No, I’m quite sure,” she replied, taking the offered cup from his magic’s grasp.

Sipping her tea, Melody frowned when she saw that Blueblood wasn’t having any. “Oh no, there’s only four cups,” she said, unhappy that he wasn’t able to enjoy drinking the tea with them.

“Oh that’s quite all right, cousin,” he said, picking up a sugar cube and placing it in his mouth. “I wasn’t really that thirsty for tea.”

“Does anypony else feel a bit odd?” Dame Squall asked, as she struggled to stay upright.

Gunhilde wet her lips with her tongue, as she downed her tea with a quick gulp. “Now that you mention it, my mouth feels rather dry,” she said, as she blinked trying to keep everything in the room in focus.

“This tea was…” Melody said, before slumping back into her seat.

“Poisoned,” Chrysalis murmured as her cup fell from her grasp, shattering into pieces on the floor.

“Sorry, cousin…” Blueblood said, his voice filled with regret and sorrow. “But it was either you or me.”

“Blue… blood… why?” she asked, struggling to stay awake.

“You came to kill me, Melody,” he dispassionately said, as they each fought against the desire to drift off into nothingness.

“No, I'd never…” she whispered, as her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

“Why else would you visit me with a knight of the Lawgiver, the Slave King’s cup bearer, and a doomhound in tow?” he asked, as he watched their breathing slow.

Hearing nothing, he shook his head, sorry that it had to come to this. Ringing the bell once more, he waited for his butler, Foxglove to return.

“I take it the deed is done, sir?” the butler asked entering the office once more.

“As good as done,” Blueblood replied, handing him a bag of bits. “Hire a ship heading north to deliver them to the usual place.”

“Sir, if you’re discovered…” Foxglove said, before being silenced by a sharp look from his master.

“It’s only a matter of time, before either of my aunts or the Slave King come a calling,” he said in a resigned tone. “The poison should keep them catatonic until they’ve been permanently dealt with.”

“I understand, sir, and what of the other governors?” he asked, as he began picking up the unconscious bodies on the floor. “What should I tell them happened to the Slave King’s delegation?”

“The truth that they chartered a ship and headed north,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “By the time anypony catches on it’ll be too late.”

“Don’t worry, sir, I’ll see to the bodies,” he said, laying Dame Squall onto the cart he’d brought.

“Thank you, Foxglove, when you’ve finished up here, please tell her to meet me in my quarters,” he said, pulling out the paperstop from his desk drawer once more.

“Tell who to meet you, sir?” Foxglove asked, placing a motionless Gunhilde in the cart beside her dead to the world companions.

“Harmony…” Blueblood sighed with regret.

“I’m sorry, sir?” he looked up in confusion as he placed Melody on top of Chrysalis. “Who are you requesting I send for?”

Closing his eyes he saw the fierce purple eyes of his obsession glaring back at him, as her black wings flared out in anger. Her delicate hands were tightly balled into fists as he held pieces of her torn clothing with his magic. Her cute, pert breasts, barely covered by the shredded remnants of her shredded blouse, rhythmically moved up and down as she panted heavily in equal parts incense and exhaustion. The ferocity of each fury, fueled breath echoed in his ears as she snorted in derision. The shiny black plumage covering her exposed hips and backside were ruffled and unkempt, as she tried in vain to cover her nakedness. Her heart pounding with adrenaline beat heavily as she was paralyzed by indecision between fighting and flight. The fine, delicate feathers covering her angelic face, wet and matted with tears of hurt and betrayal, she tried in vain to hide as she turned away from him in shame.

Wishing to will away the loathsome memory, he opened up his eyes and turned to his faithful servant. “Foxglove, does it matter?” he asked, as he looked down at the spilled tea and broken cup laying in pieces on the ground. Looking at his murky, loathsome reflection staring back at him, he laid back his head and looked up at the ceiling in regret.

“Very well, sir,” the butler replied, covering Melody and the others with a heavy tarp.

Sadly shaking his head, he left his master behind and pulled the cart behind him. When the door closed behind him, Blueblood closed his eyes once more and softly said, “Did it ever really matter?”

*****

The oppressive darkness of this place covered them like a heavy cloak. She and her guide were treading dark paths that few knew, and even fewer dared travel. All around her, the silent whispers of the hidden shadowy watchers beckoned, trying to catch her unawares in their snares should she stray. Her eyes tried scrying the path that lay beyond her sight, but in the end all she discovered were the unfathomable, inky blackness of his place of fell shade and dark shadows.

The darkness surrounding them, pressed down upon her like a heavy millstone relentlessly grinding against her hope filled heart. Dark visions filled her mind and wretched madness echoed in her ears trying to dissuade her from pressing forward. But all the fearsome horrors lying in wait and hiding beyond her sight would not discourage her from continuing on this necessary journey. For hers was a noble purpose, and she was determined that nothing would reaching her sojourns end.

Keep up! You useless pony! her guide snarled, releasing a low growl of annoyance.

“How dare thee, thou wretched beast!” she snapped back, angry that her guide had the gall to insult her. “We art thy mistress, brute, and thou shoulds’t treat us as such.”

Mistress? What a terrible joke, her guide retorted, amused that she thought herself worthy to command her in the slightest. Maybe were I one of your weak, little ponies.

“Pony or not, dids’t thy master not bequeath thine service to us as our hoofmaiden?” she demanded, hoping to remind her of her duty to cause.

Being reminded of that hateful pledge, made her hackles rise as she hissed in anger at the memory. Turning away from her, she didn’t answer as continued leading the way to their destination.

Satisfied that her words had silenced the distasteful creature, her mind turned to worried thoughts of her stricken beloved. She’d left him under the watchful care of his ever faithful friend and loyal servant, but still found herself worrying over his well being. What if they weren’t fast enough, or the plan to resuscitate him from his torpor failed. What would they do then? Without his power to command the gates they and thus all creation were doomed.

She thought upon the plan they had agreed upon, and still felt it was their best chance at success. Scourge had suggested creating an anchor of shadow within the confines of Darkpaw’s old temple. With it they could easily move her beloved to his fount of renewal and the source of his power, the crystallized essence of the Earth. She’d only been there once prior, and although she’d tread the path together with her beloved, she couldn’t recall the way. She’d been much too busy flirting with and trying to impress her husband to be. He’d led her on a merry chase as they traveled together towards the site of his yearly renewal.

It was there, she thought, as he bathed in the radiance and majesty of the great gem’s brilliance she had begun loving him. He’d looked so calm and magnificent at that moment, fully embracing his purpose as the Prime Element of Earth, that he’d managed capturing her heart and she wished for nothing more than to be by his side. Even now, the sweet memories of how she felt at that moment were driving her forward to aid her beloved. They urged her to forgive him for his shortcomings, for his brusque and rough nature, for his distrust of her.

He’ll never love you, you know, her guide said, looking over her shoulder at her.

Laying back her ears and narrowing her eyes, she glared at the cruel beast who dared utter such hateful words to her.

“And what woulds’t a heartless and odious beast such as thou, knave, knowest of love and all its divers joy?” she retorted, stomping her hoof in objection.

Her guide, narrowed her eyes in response and bore her fangs at the one who thought to command her allegiance. She felt sorely tempted to retaliate against that pony for her smug answer. Had things not been so dire for her master, she would’ve raked her with her fearsome claws before abandoning that usurper to the travails of this dangerous place. But she had no alternative available to her, to see to his safety. Though it vexed her sore, she needed that useless fool of a pony to save him.

Truly there was no justice in the world, when undeserving wretches like that pony whore could latch onto her master like a leach without nary a consequence. Goddess though she may be, all their troubles had begun once she had forced him to take her as his undeserving wife. Truly, she was the source of all their ills and misfortune. From the foul curse that had brought her wonderful master low, to this current crisis that threatened to doom them all, if she were out of the picture her master could finally recover free from her caustic influence.

She wished to utter a scathing rebuke, but found her mistress, for now at least, her words had cut her to the core. She possessed nary an inkling of the thing that her master’s previous lovers had claimed was love, especially the obnoxious phoenix’s ideal of what it should be. To her, he was the center of all things. Right or wrong, his will was hers, and she was his to command. All she desired was her rightful and proper place at his side, whereas the whores he’d chosen to cavort with had only ever deceived and used him. If that was love, she had no desire to ever know it.

Looking hatefully once more at the weakling who mistakenly thought herself worthy or deserving of her master, she shook her head. Here was another treacherous, lying, deceiver, who was the worst of them all. Although the rest had used him for their own selfish gain, none of the others had ever harmed her master as she had. Feeling her ire rise as she recounted the wrongs done against him, made her heart rage and soul yearn for vengeance. She could only hope that playing her part in reigniting her master’s divine spark, had also restored the rage and fury he once possessed.

Returning her attention back to the path, she was tempted to ruminate further on how once she and her master had been restored to good health, how they would fall upon and avenge themselves together against their enemies, but then stopped.

Noticing that her guide had halted, she walked up behind her and tried peering into the darkness to determine why she’d stopped moving. “Pray tell, why hast thou ceased?” she asked, slightly concerned by the hidden dangers that lay in wait beyond her sight.

Her guide remained silent much to her consternation. Ordinarily she’d be grateful to be spared listening to her venomous invective, but now her silence was rather worrisome. Although she knew of her servant’s distaste for ponies in general, and herself in particular, it wasn’t until they entered this realm of shadows together that was she able to hear it. And listen she had, they had scarcely taken two steps before she had told her exactly what she thought of her.

She’d been tempted then to take her leave of the surly beast, to make her own way, but was reminded of her beloved’s dire need, and so swallowed her pride. It wasn’t an easy task, but before long her companion had run out of words and steam, and seemed satisfied to only utter a few barbs every now and again. Now that she’d received no harsh words in response to her question put her on edge.

We’re not alone, pony, she said with a low growl as she bared her fangs at the darkness.

“What dost thou sense lieth in the dark, Nightmare?” she asked, nearly whispering her question in apprehension.

Prepare yourself, pony, he comes, she answered, flicking her tail back and forth as she readied her claws for battle.

"Yes, my friend, I have come,” an ever familiar said from the darkness surrounding them.

“You?” she asked, confused by how the voice had manifested itself here in this place.

"Yes, it’s I,” he replied, with a slight chuckle. “Princess, you seem so surprised to see me.”

“We dids’t not suppose that thou wert of a corporeal nature,” she admitted, feeling relieved that she’d hadn’t actually been under the sway of near madness.

Tiroc! Nightmare hissed, extending her claws as she readied herself to pounce.

Hearing the dread one’s name nearly sent her into shock. All this time the one who’d been whispering into her mind had been that great, sealed away evil, Tiroc the Destroyer.

“Yes, Nightmare, it is I,” he answered, his voice oozing smugness. “So, my friend, have you given any more thought to my offer?”

It was a mistake ever revealing yourself to me, Tiroc, she disdainfully replied, peering ahead into the inky darkness. But then again, I suppose stumbling from one misstep to the next has always been your way, no?

“Then I suppose, Nightmare, that my only mistake was thinking you would ever see reason,” he said, disappointed that she’d spurned his offer once more.

“Tiroc, thou scound,” Luna accused, lighting up her horn in preparation to do battle. “Thou shan’t waylay us any further with thy prattling tongue.”

“Luna, how rude,” he said with a laugh. “Is that anyway to treat a friend and ally?”

“Thou art not an ally of ours!” she shouted, lowering her horn at the darkness. “Thy word dost ring hollow, thy oaths be empty, and all that thou promise is naught but ruination.”

“But, my friend, didn’t I show you the way to get what you wanted?” he countered as the sound of his voice circled around them. “Why blame me for your timidity and constant failures, princess?”

“We carest no longer for thy ill begotten lies, thou forked tongue, deceiver!” she shouted, angrily shaking her mane and stomping her hoof.

Treacherous pony, Nightmare hissed, furious that she’d betrayed her master once more. The Slave King will hear of your betrayal!

“We didst not knoweth it!” Luna protested, afraid that this would be drive another wedge between herself and her beloved.

Save your lies, you pony whore! she snarled, furious that she lacked the means of avenging herself against Luna’s betrayal against her lord.

“We art innocent, we so swear it!” Luna cried out, desperate to be believed by anypony. “We woulds’t never harm our husband, we loveth him.”

“Ah, but we had an accord, Princess,” Tiroc said, as the darkness took on a reddish tint.

“Away with thee, deceiver!” Luna boomed, uttering her command to this unwelcome tormentor.

“I don’t think so,” Tiroc said, clearly amused by her attempt at removing him. “Neither you nor Nightmare can stop me here.”

I’ll fight you, fool, and I will win, Nightmare promised, as her eyes scanned the darkness surrounding them for their unseen assailant. I’ll battle you, and whether by fang or claw, I will defeat you.

“Then you, like your master before you, will fall,” he said, as the darkness began melting away. “You lack the strength to stop me.”

“Foul one, she shan’t be facing thee alone,” Luna said, moving forward. “We shalt do battle with thee, and cast thee aside.”

“But what of your husband’s heart?” Tiroc countered with a laugh. “Without my help you’ll never succeed in securing it, unless you’re willing to sacrifice ever knowing happiness with him that is.”

“Hermm…” Luna snorted, pawing the ground once more as she tried locating Tiroc through the darkening red mist.

“Oh, dear, sweet, innocent, little princess…” he mocked with a riotous laugh. “Afraid of embracing the dark?”

“We shan’t resort to debasing ourselves to thee any further!” she cried out, rearing up on her hind legs as her heart filled with a righteous fury.

Unfurling her wings, she flew up above Nightmare and lit up her horn. As the grooves of her horn filled with her power and divinity, tendrils of pure moonlight shoot out in all directions, melting away the sickly red mist as the morning’s dew before the rising sun. Her eyes, normally a shade of turquoise, looked as quicksilver, and her starry mane and tail flowed behind her, caught up in the unseen winds of magic enveloping her.

For her part, Nightmare gave her supposed mistress a dismissive sneer, before stalking off into the darkness. Shaking her head in disapproval at such a flashy display, she’d have hoped that someone as experienced as the Lady of Night supposedly was, would know better than leaving herself exposed to attack. Smirking to herself as she cast one last derisive glance up at her, she only hoped that Tiroc wouldn’t kill her before they managed to reach the temple and setup the anchor. Once that was done, Luna could succumb to her inevitable wounds and fall into torpor for their enemies to tear into pieces for all she cared.

Ignoring Nightmare for now, Tiroc continued taunting Luna. “So the little filly thinks herself the equal of Celestia, now does she?” he mocked, the deep timbre of his voice echoing all around her. “A shame that all you have to aid you in this fool’s errand is as surly a brute as Nightmare. Now if your sister was here, perhaps then I might have something to fear.”

Enraged at his mocking words, Luna released a portion of the magic within her horn, sending a silvery rain falling in every direction. When she heard a loud growl of anger, she narrowed her eyes, and prepared to strike. Flapping her wings once, she beat them as hard as she could and glided into the dark with her horn pointed forward. As the winds of magic and air pulled at her coat and mane, she felt her heart beating with exhilaration. Not since the mines had she felt such an adrenaline rush.

However feeling such excitement was short lived, no sooner had she reached more than five lengths into the red mist, she felt a powerful blow connect against her muzzle. Falling to the ground and silently crying from the pain, she shakily stood up on her hooves and released a silvery beam towards where she felt Tiroc might be hiding.

As the magic left her horn, she was rewarded with a furious roar. “Ha, thou brute,” she boasted, moving her eyes left and right as she prepared herself for another devastating blow. “Where art thy witty retorts and flippancy now? We assure thee, we have enough and to spare if thou desireth another good thrashing.”

“That was a mere scratch, nothing more I assure you, little princess,” Tiroc answered from the dark. “But I sense your hesitance, filly. If you are so confident in your skill, I welcome you to try and defeat me.”

Calling upon her magic, she formed two orbs of silver, and began spinning them above her head. As the orbs picked up speed, blue sparks flowed along the surface, until the growing, crackling sparks became arcs of lightning. As the sparking, crackling energy formed a circuit between the orbs, a loud crack of thunder shook the place, nearly causing her to lose her balance. Once she was satisfied with her make shift weapon, she released the crackling orbs into the darkness. Wasting no time, she formed another pair of orbs before the first had barely left her horn’s power.

Scarcely had she formed the second set of orbs, when she heard an angry, enraged cry, signifying that her weapon had flown true and found its mark. In the darkness, she saw the faint outline of the Destroyer through the mists, as her attacks electrical power shocked and wracked his body. Unwilling to give her foe an opportunity to recover, she flung the orbs at him once more. Giving them a boost from magical stores, the mists burned away as they carved a path to her waiting target.

Confident that she had stunned the beast with her spell, she victoriously trotted over towards him. The monstrous shape of Tiroc glared down at her as she stepped towards her prize. The orbs had indeed succeeded in stunning and binding him, as the coursing electrical energy holding him in place attested.

Looking up into his bale fire filled eyes, she imagined how proud everypony would be of her for having saved the day. She’d stopped the Destroyer alone, unaided, and left him dead in his tracks. Her smile grew larger when she thought about how she would recount her victory to the others, and her cheeks grew crimson when she thought about how her cold husband might react once she revealed to him how she’d saved his life and preserved his domain from any further mischief from the dread monster.

“Tiroc, dost thou have any last words before we banish thee back to thy prison in the pit?” she smugly asked, overwhelmed with pride at her remarkable accomplishment.

“Only three words, Luna,” Tiroc growled, displeased by her insolence.

“And pray tell, what mayst be they?” she asked, readying her magic for the coup de grace.

Watch your back, you stupid pony! she heard Nightmare shouting at her.

Turning around she saw to her horror a large fist moving towards her muzzle. She tried reacting, but it was too late, the fist impacted with muzzle with a sickening crunch. She felt her eyes watering as she spat out blood, before feeling a second more powerful impact against the other side of her head. This time she felt the majority of the impact against where her horn met the crown of her head.

Screaming in pain she felt to her horror the majority of her magic being released uncontrollably from her horn. Slumping to the ground, she whimpered as her own magic rained down upon her. She tried forming a shield to protect herself from the worst of it, but found that head ached to terribly to cast, while her horn felt like it might shatter if she tried casting anything further.

Looking up from the ground in stunned shock, she saw the image of Tiroc she’d thought she’d caught melt away into the mists and shadows surrounding her. Looking to her left she saw her quarry standing above her with the same smug look of victory she’d held at the moment before the tables had turned. From the corner of her eyes, she thought she saw Nightmare’s burning eyes for a moment, before they too faded away into nothingness.

Despondent in her failure to stop the Destroyer, she hung her head down and cried in shame. “Beloved, we art sorrowful that we hast failed thee…” she lamented as she waited for him to offer the finishing blow.

Seeing her tears, he let out a boisterous laugh. “My friend, don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you,” he said, kneeling down to pat her mane.

“Stay back,” she wheezed, finding herself without the strength to stand.

“We had a pact after all, didn’t we,” he continued, rubbing his hands in perverse delight. “To help you get everything you ever wanted.”

“We… we dost not want thy aid any further,” she said, coughing up a bit of blood as she struggled to speak.

“Don’t worry, my friend,” he said as he gently stroked her mane. “Once I’m free, everything you ever desired will be yours. Respect, power…”

“Sister…” she moaned, as she thought of the horrors he would inflict upon the ponies they cared for.

Delighted at her despair he continued. “Yes, Luna, and even love.”

“Thou shalt not touch him!” she hoarsely cried out through her bruised and bloodied lips.

“Together, my friend, we shall remake him into whatsoever you desire,” he said, offering her a malicious grin. “Yes, with my help your visions will soon be made reality.”

“No…” she weakly moaned, cursing her impotence and weakness.

“But all in good time, my sweet little Luna,” he said, grabbing a hold of her blackened and bruised muzzle, forcing her to look him in his burning eyes. “First, I think we shall need to offer you a little encouragement.”

Drawing a nail lightly against her coat, he was tracing a curious pattern along her exposed flank. Feeling his sharp nail pressing against her skin, she bit her lip and whimpered as he began drawing blood. He drew his mouth towards her bleeding wound and trailed his tongue along it. Lightly smacking his lips, he gave her a malevolent smile as he ran his tongue along the edge of his fearsome teeth.

“Ah, there it is, the sweet bouquet of taint and corruption,” he said, digging his nail like a knife, deeper into her wound.

She let out a scream as she felt the Destroyer’s nail cutting through her flesh. It felt as though the blood in her veins had been replaced with cold fire as her wound began bleeding profusely. She saw to her horror that instead of being a healthy shade of crimson, her life’s essence was nearly pitch black. Seeing her blackened blood, she was immediately reminded of what had transpired back in the mines when she’d fought Lady Minoa for the Slave King’s hoof.

Noting her discomfort, Tiroc offered her a menacing smile. “It won’t be long now, my friend,” he said, patting her head.

“Nay…” she gasped, struggling to remain conscious.

“Yes, Luna, soon it will be all over,” he said, stroking her mane.

“Nigh… Nightmare… please,” she weakly called out. “The Slave King…”

Hearing her desperate struggle, Tiroc laughed once more. “No one can help you now, Luna,” he whispered, as his eyes burned with hunger. “No one can help you now.”

Author's Note

Thank you gentlereader for reading chapter fourteen of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, as always comments are appreciated.

Once again, gentlereader, I find myself apologizing for my tardiness. I originally had planned on releasing this chapter in December but had found myself dissatisfied with certain parts of what I'd written. Additionally the chapter was supposed to be nearly twice as long, but I found myself having issues with some sections, so I decided to break the chapter up in half. Once its been completed you can expect to see it shortly.

The griffin Len is finally making a move to avenge his mother against the Slave King, thanks to a little push from Councilor Johan. The councilor's reasons for allowing Dawson to take the treatise are now abundantly clear. With Dawson dead and out of the way, he hopes to distract Lady Zephyr from her abolitionism crusade. Not the only question we can ask is will Dawson manage to reach the Ziggurat of Knowledge before Len can reach him.

As for poor Melody and her friends, it seems that lying to reach the governor has backfired. Afraid she had come to assassinate him, he decided to make his move first. If only she had explained herself instead of making small talk... Well at least Blueblood seems to know how he wishes to spend his last few weeks before the rest decide to come and finish the job. Hopefully one of them will wake before they reach their final destination up north, otherwise they'll really reach it early.

Finally we come to the big, or not so big, reveal (depending if you hadn't figured out who the voice actually was). The voice taunting Luna was Tiroc all along! Now having prematurely revealed himself to her, was it a blunder like Nightmare claimed, or was it clever strategy to achieve his end? But having been seemingly abandoned by Nightmare and defeated by Tiroc, what can Luna do? Will things end badly for her, or will she pull out a victory from beneath her wing?

Find out the answers to these questions and more, in the next exciting chapter of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, coming soon to computer near you!

Once again, gentlereader, thank you for reading and all your kind words and support. You make writing worthwhile. Until next time!

Addendum: The Pieces, Those Who Are Moved Upon the Board

The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter

A Story by TalonMach5

Addendum: The Pieces, Those Who Are Moved Upon the Board

Scourge, the Hunter, first of the Doomhounds: Once a humble diamond dog guard, he was changed by the Slave King into something far greater. In service to his dark master, Scourge fell in battle, but so strong were the ties binding him to the Slave King that not even death could hold him. Now nothing more than a spectral hound, he leads the ‘Order of the Shadow’ for his king. Though he no longer possesses the ability to affect the mortal realm, when he dons his rune inscribed arcanum armor, he’s a terror on the battlefield. Unfortunately, he was forced to choose between his duty to his lord and loyalty to his friend. Because of this, Scourge has become estranged from the Slave King for picking the former over the latter.

Scourge's Theme

Arch Duke Fifi le Yipyap, the master turned slave: Once the right paw hound of Lord Darkpaw and the most powerful hound in the Diamond Vale, when the Slave King became Lord of Earth, the arch duke found himself the unbridled focus of his rage. Eventually, management over the Domain of Earth became too unwieldy for the Slave King to run alone. Deciding to make use of his assets, he placed his mark upon the arch duke and made him his immortal regent.

Though the Slave King doesn’t care much for his servant, the arch duke has proven himself indispensable as his administrator, and too invaluable to replace as he oversees the construction of the Domain of Earth’s new capital, the Neo Vale. With the rift between Scourge and the Slave King having grown vast and deep, Second’s unending plots and schemes, and a new mistress unfamiliar with the ways of the Earth, somehound crafty and wise like the archduke, just might be able to profit while the others pointlessly quarrel.

Arch Duke Fifi le Yipyap's Theme

Nightmare, the first creation: The first of the Slave King’s creations, she was unwittingly willed into being by his endless fury, rage, and grief. As a piece of the Slave King’s soul willed into being, Nightmare considers herself favored above all others. No other can truly know her master as she, and no other is worthy of her master’s favor. Not that clingy griffin bitch, or that silly phoenix strumpet, and certainly neither of those pony whores! She simply needs to assume a more compatible and pleasing form to meet her master’s needs, and he will be hers, body, mind, and soul. Standing ever vigilant at the Slave King’s side, and for now grudgingly serving his new wife, she impatiently waits for the day when he returns her unrequited love for him.

Nightmare's Theme

Second, the doomhound: Second in command of the Slave King’s doomhounds, like Scourge he was transformed into one of the first doomhounds to serve their new master. Unlike Scourge he was never gifted with a name (the true sign of the Slave King’s favor), instead he was forced to bide his time as those above him perished to get promoted. As the leader of the doomhounds he regards Scourge with little more than veiled contempt, but is unable to assassinate him due to his spectral nature. Unhappy at being forever fated to always be subservient to Scourge, and with a heart full of resentment towards the Slave King, that he will never become First, he sought out a new master to serve. Now yoked to his new master’s wicked and dark purpose, he longs for the day when he will usurp the Slave King and finally assume the mantle of Lord of Earth.

Second's Theme

Nidhogg, the Devourer: Once a common black dragon, he betrayed Lord Ouroboros because of a kindness the Slave King had once showed his family. Rewarding the dragon for the boon, he transformed him into the first of the land wurms. Nidhogg took to his new body well, and though he can no longer soar through the heavens he has taken to swimming through the earth. Due to his unique biology, he has often served as the Slave King’s courier and has greatly aided the Domain of Earth many times over. Forever grateful to his lord, he’s widely known as one of his most fanatically loyal servants. When he’s not busy expanding the network of tunnels crisscrossing beneath Equestria with his kin, he can be found in his home in the Neo Vale, enjoying the many loam and stone delicacies the Slave King makes for him.

Nidhogg's Theme

Dawson, the griffin-half: Son of Lady Zephyr and the Slave King, he is the first of the griffin-half tribe. Dawson was an unexpected surprise for his father, due to his mother’s scheming machinations to win his father’s heart. He was the end product of the union that mixed her divinity with that of the Slave King’s. Though the Slave King stubbornly refuses to recognize him as his son, the griffin-half still cares deeply for his father and only wishes to make him proud. Having been unsuccessful in his attempt to win his father’s respect, Dawson has returned home with his mother to the Golden Eyrie in hopes of one day winning honor, acclaim, and one day, his father’s love.

Dawson' Theme

Aria, the Red, of the feathered folk tribe: Eldest daughter of Lady Suzaku and the Slave King, she was the first of many feathered folk. Aria’s birth was a surprise for the Slave King, but not for Lady Suzaku. The phoenix decided that perhaps offspring would soften her consort’s heart in hopes of winning his love. Imbuing him with a silver of her divinity, the Slave King soon found himself capable of reproducing with any of the other sapient races of Equestria. As a result, Aria was the first of the many different beastfolk tribes that now inhabit the Beastmen’s Enclave.

As the daughter of Lady Suzaku, Aria inherited her mother’s great beauty and lovely singing voice. From her father, she inherited his tenacity and razor sharp mind. Though the Slave King refuses to acknowledge her as his child, he still allows her and her sisters a place in his employ. Apprentice to Master Scourge, and the presumptive successor for the mantle of leadership over ‘Order of the Shadow’; Aria has found herself questioning whether she should continue serving her father due to the poor treatment her master has received at their king’s cruel, uncaring hand.

Aria's Theme

Melody, the Yellow, of the feathered folk tribe: Second eldest daughter of Lady Suzaku and the Slave King. Unlike her sister, Melody was not unexpected. Much like her sister she is both fair and possess a lovely singing voice. Though her father doesn’t recognize her as his child, she still cares for him greatly, often teasingly referring to him as king daddy, much to the Slave King’s and her sister’s annoyance.

As the court harper, she spends most of her time entertaining the Slave King and his guests with her musical abilities. But don’t let her dainty form and pretty face lull you, hidden behind her lute and brightly colored clothes is a potent and skilled warrior. She sees her father’s broken heart beneath his iron mask, and wishes there was something she could do to mend it. Soon after meeting both Dawson and Dame Squall for the first time, they quickly became fast friends, and she hopes to one day continue their adventures together. Visited by the Winding One in a dream, she was tasked with recovering the Elements of Harmony before the Winter Solstice, lest calamity befall the domains and all those who reside there.

Melody's Theme

Harmony, the Black, of the feathered folk tribe: Youngest daughter of Lady Suzaku and the Slave King. As the youngest of three sisters, Harmony is considered the favored daughter by her father. Though he refuses to recognize her as his offspring, the Slave King recognized her magical talents and made her his court magister. Considered a magical prodigy, she’s greatly feared and respected by the mortals inhabiting the other domains.

Often called upon by the Slave King to handle interdomain affairs, she knows how to quell the angry members of the pantheon who often confront the Slave King for his unpopular policies. Unlike her sisters, Harmony understands why her father refuses to accept her as family and ultimately respects his decision regarding the matter. When pressed about the matter, she always refrains, “The Slave King has no children.” As a result of her acceptance of the oft repeated lie, her relationship between herself and her mother has suffered somewhat.

Harmony's Theme

Ignatius, the forge master, of the dragon-half tribe: The first of the dragon-half tribe, his creation was the unexpected product of a brawl between the Slave King and a considerably weakened Lord Ouroboros. Ignatius and the other dragon-halfs were born from a scene of great violence between the Fire Tyrant and the Slave King. Once the battle was over and before both of them could return to their domains, Lord Ouroboros saw the dragon-half whelps at his feet and became enraged. Accusing the Slave King of corrupting his power to create the abominations, the Lord of Fire was about to destroy the frightened and confused whelps when the Slave King told him to hold.

In exchange for ‘The Heart of the World’, a gem of great value, Lord Ouroboros agreed to spare the whelps lives. Taking them into his domain, the Slave King raised Ignatius and his siblings and created the Beastmen’s Enclave as a place of refuge for them. Ignatius has never forgotten what the Slave King has done for him and his kin, and has led his fellow dragon-halfs in devoted service to the Slave King. Now overseer of the Slave King’s manufactorium, he’s directing the manufacture of the Devastation to his lord’s exacting specifications.

Ignatius's Theme

Pecan Buckeye Pie, freed citizen of the South: Formerly a pegaus slave of the Domain of Earth, he was freed by the Slave King once he’d completed his ten in the service of the state. Buckeye, or Bucky as he’s known by his friends, was a former comrade and soldier in arms with Dawson. Now free to follow wherever the headwind takes him, he seeks fortune and glory on his travels. A plucky and cheerful fellow, he never allowed his enslavement to break his spirit. As a soldier in the Slave King’s army, his unit considered him extremely lucky, and often relied on his keen and heightened senses to warn them of hidden danger. Last seen heading north after expressing an interest in seeing all the domains, with nothing but a wry smile and a saddlebag full of bits, it’s only a matter of time, until he looks up his former comrade in the Golden Eyrie.

Bucky's Theme

Dame Squall, the Relentless: A beautiful and skilled seapony chevaleresse of the Lawgiver, destiny was thrust upon her when Dawson, Melody, and she inadvertently stumbled upon a plot against the Slave King that threatened to destroy the stability the domains currently enjoy, when somepony sabotaged a duel between the Slave King’s and Lord Triton’s champions. Though she’d always considered the Slave King and his servants nothing more than vicious mudslinger brutes, lately, she’s found herself reevaluating that opinion. Having had an opportunity to befriend Melody and Dawson, she considers them worthy companions, and in Dawson’s case maybe something more. Finally discovering the true identity of one of the conspirators, she will not rest until she sees justice done.

Dame Squall's Theme

Glitterwing, sage in training: Though flutterponies are normally skittish and reclusive by nature, Glitterwing wished for a far greater destiny. While the rest of her kin were content to seclude themselves in the wilds of the Everfree Forest, she was bitten by the wanderlust bug and decided to see the rest of the world. Stumbling upon her master, Sage Zhange, a venerable and wise kirin by happenstance, she knew she had to become a sage like him. After much pleading, he finally agreed to take her in as his apprentice. Over the years, she’s developed a knack for astrology and reading the stars, and even in some instances has been able to portend future events. Plagued with dark visions of the future, via her gift of sight beyond sight, she hopes to persuade her master to allow her to leave, so that she might warn the Slave King of the plot against him, before it’s too late.

Glitterwing's Theme

Gunhilde, cupbearer for the Slave King: Formerly a reindeer battlemage defending Bone’s Landing against the Slave King’s armies, Gunhilde was captured by Dawson and Bucky. Later sold to the Slave King for two thousand bits, she thought her life was over. Instead she was given the Slave King’s brand, and a position of great influence in his court. Though she loathes serving her master, she knows she’s more fortunate than many of her fellow slaves. Having finally come to grips with her new status as a slave, she serves her master as best she can, looking forward to the day when her ten is up and she’s finally free to return to her homeland and people.

Gunhilde's Theme

Chrysalis, the Changer of Ways: Bixie was once an ordinary changeling drone in search of love to sustain herself, but then she was betrayed by one her own kind. Beaten and tortured for a crime she didn’t commit, she found refuge and succor in the service of the Slave King. When he offered her, her freedom, she chose another path instead. Willingly accepting his brand, he gifted her with power and a new body so she could serve him better. Extremely grateful to the Slave King for his protection, she seeks to aid him in any way possible, sensual or not. Now in the charge of her keeper, Gunhilde, she looks forward to the day when she can avenge herself against those who’ve wronged her.

Chrysalis's Theme

Bazzt Zzzt, changeling spymaster and assassin: Within the changeling race, there are some who lust after wealth and power, rather than concerning themselves for the wellbeing of the hive. Bazzt Zzzt is counted amongst their number. Wherever there is a need for trickery, deception, or maybe even a little murder; he can be readily found and hired for the right price. Extremely devious and slippery, most of his targets never saw him coming until it was too late. Now in the employ of Second and his dark and terrible lord, he’s forsaken any loyalty he might have once had to his hive, and willingly serves his new master’s treacherous plot against the Slave King.

Bazzt Zzzt's Theme

King Sombra, tyrant usurper of the Crystal Dominion: With the aid of Second and Bazzt Zzzt, Shadow Knight Sombra managed to win a boon from their lord, the Slave King. When he heard his request to oversee his holdings in the North, the Slave King gladly granted Sombra the post, as he was eager to prevent any further interdomain incidents between himself and Lord Triton. Unbeknownst to the Slave King, Sombra’s request was nothing but a ruse to further Second’s plot against him.

Now installed as the newest governor over the crystal ponies, any restraint Sombra might have once had is long gone. Free to do as he wishes, he’s taken liberties with his new subjects. Liberties which if discovered, would bring down a full measure of the Slave King’s wrath upon his head. Charged with tripling the crystal mines output, Sombra plans to put his authority over the crystal ponies to the test.

King Sombra's Theme

Author's Note

Thank you, gentlereader for reading, The Prologue of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, as always comments are appreciated. As before, I've included an addendum so you can reacquaint yourself with the mortal cast. Hopefully you find the musical theme's I've selected for each of them to your liking. If not, perhaps suggest an alternate selection in the comments.

Until next time, gentlereader!

Chapter 1: The Fear That Stalks Their Hidden Hearts

The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter

A Story by TalonMach5

Chapter 1: The Fear That Stalks Their Hidden Hearts

He felt the warmth of the sun’s rays gently kiss his flesh as it roused him from his slumber. He felt somewhat refreshed after such a good sleep, yet at the same time rather weak and lethargic. He couldn’t quite explain it. By all rights he should be feeling his innate magic empowering him, as well as the strength of the earth flowing through him. But this morning he felt nothing but a void where his divinity should have been. Still groggy from his slumber, he yawned deeply and moved to rub the sleep from his eyes with his hands. But to his surprise, he found both his arms restrained away from his body. Surprised at his predicament, he opened his eyes and examined his surroundings.

He found himself lying in a strange bed, and in an unfamiliar room. As he looked at his surroundings, he saw that the room was richly decorated with cheery colors in silk and satins. From the bed, to the carpets and tapestries, to the furniture, everything had a certain feminine quality to it. Breathing in deeply, he examined himself and saw to his shock that someone had seen fit to pilfer his right arm! Made completely of arcanum, the mostly magically impervious metal had always been his insurance policy. Even completely cut off from his power, his false arm had always proved useful against malicious magical attacks against his person.

With his limb missing, all he had left was the capped stump affixed to rather thick and heavy chains. Angered and annoyed that someone dared accost him in this way, he looked to his left and saw that his other arm was shackled as well. Though the chains binding him weren’t stretched tight, they offered him little freedom of movement. Looking down, he saw that his normally utilitarian clothing had been replaced with silken finery. Spying a nearby mirror, he saw that his normally burning green eyes were nearly bereft of their magic. And even curiouser, someone had attempted healing his numerous scars. Though to his amusement, he could tell they hadn’t had much luck. The ugly scarred and burnt flesh that marred his face was still there, and the deep angry red scars, the evidence of his former existence as a slave still covered his flesh.

Spying a nearby balcony, he looked out and saw the mountains surrounding his prison. Carefully studying their topography, he soon discovered where he was being held. Londwhinium. And judging by the sun motif carved into the masonry and embroidered into the carpets, this room belonged to Celestia, the Radiant. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he caught the familiar scent of his fellow deity, and scowled. Somehow she’d seen fit to spirit him away from his bed, palace, domain, and though he didn’t care much for her, his wife.

His wife. Now that begged the question, where was she in all this. If last night’s jealous outburst at his being embraced by her sister was any indication, she would most definitely not approve of his incarceration in her sister’s room. But he found it even odder, judging by the position of the sun, the humidity, and the temperature, this was the middle of summer, not spring. Had his wounding caused him to go into torpor? That might explain the time lapse, but not why Celestia had seen fit to spirit him away without his say so.

So much about this situation he found troubling. Never before had she ever acted with such duplicitous aggression before. Such behavior he might expect from one of the others, but never from her. She always preached harmony to him, inviting him to join with her in friendship. But abducting him from his domain, imprisoning him in her city, and chaining him to a bed, seemed beyond her usual methodology. Also what had happened to his divinity and connection to the earth? He could still sense them, but it was as if he was separated from its power by a dense fog. It was as if something or someone was leaching it away from him.

Struggling against his restraints, he reached out with his tongue and tasted the heavy chains restraining his left arm. Raw arcanum ore! Of course, that’s why he’d had trouble connecting to the earth. The chains holding him to the bed, were also dampening his own power. Had the chains been the only thing standing in the way of his freedom, he wouldn’t have been so worried, but Celestia had also severed the ley lines in the room, cutting him off from the earth, the source of his power. Obviously, she had gone to great lengths to keep him weak and powerless, but he couldn’t understand why. As far as he was concerned, she had him under her hoof, right where she wanted him.

She had a foothold deep in his territory at Bone’s Landing, via her pony garrison. Though she’d protested her innocence regarding last night’s attack, he’d nearly died and it was only by her power that he’d survived the ordeal, leaving him indebted to her. And through marriage to her sister, he was now linked to her through blood ties and familial obligation. With so many advantages over him, why risk war with his domain and her sister’s ire over his abduction? Lord Triton was correct, truly no man might know the mind of a woman.

While struggling to decipher Celestia’s devious machinations, he felt his greying beard itch and wished he could scratch it. As he lamented his inability to so much as scratch his own nose, he heard someone approaching. Judging by the clippity clop of their hooves, the sound of gold striking against the marble floor, and the weight of the approaching pony’s hoofsteps, it could only be Celestia, coming back to check up on her prisoner.

Seeing the golden aura of his jailor’s magic enveloping the door, he offered her what he considered an appropriately menacing scowl. When the while alicorn entered the room carrying a covered silver platter, his eyes smoldered with rage. However, instead of being taken aback when she saw him glaring at her, her lavender eyes held a momentary look of surprise which quickly morphed into one of warmth and great joy.

“Celestia, I demand you release me this instant!” he growled, unsuccessfully stoking the fires of his earthen rage. “Furthermore, I… ack!”

Before he continued his tirade against her, he was interrupted as she embraced and kissed him deeply, nearly drawing all the breath out of his lungs. To say he was surprised by her behavior, would be nothing short of an understatement. He was completely flabbergasted, though she had been affectionate towards him in the past, it had always been chaste. But the kiss and licentious looks she’d given him, were full of lust and wanton desire. Offering him one last peck on the lips, she drew back and smiled at him with a lusty gaze suggesting they were lovers or something even more intimate.

His anger momentarily forgotten, he gave her a flummoxed look. “Celestia, the Radiant,” he said, in a calm and even tone before offering her a full measure of his displeasure. “Have you lost your mind!?”

At his outburst, she laid back her ears worriedly, before sitting down on the large bed, and laying her head on his scarred chest. Looking up at him, her eyes gazed longingly at him. Her multi-hued mane flowed and rippled as it covered him with its solar and light domain fueled magics.

“You have no idea how seeing you awake, Slave King, brings me joy,” she dreamily said between kisses, as she worked her way up his chest.

Though he didn’t particularly care for his wife, he was still a married man, and to Celestia’s own sister no less. His personal honor wouldn’t allow himself to succumb to the temptation she was offering him.

“Celestia, the Radiant,” he said as sternly as he could, hoping to return her to her senses. “I am married to another. If your lust for me was so great, you should have stated your desires towards me before I wed your sister.”

When she heard his objections, she released a musical laugh that left him further confused by her flippancy. “My sister already had her chance with you,” she said, snuggling up against him and enjoying his warmth. “It’s my turn now.”

Trying as best he could to pull back from her advances, he found himself stymied once more by the arcanum chains restraining him. “Somehow I doubt your sister will see things that way,” he said, unsuccessfully dodging her passion fueled kisses.

“As sisters, we share everything,” Celestia answered, placing yet another kiss squarely on his mouth. “I see no reason why you should be any different.”

Furious that she was ignoring his wishes in this matter, he offered her an angry scowl. “Celestia, when Lord Triton hears of this, there’ll be Hades to pay,” he threatened, hoping to appeal to her sense of honor and propriety.

When she heard his threat, Celestia simply laughed once more. “Oh, Slave King,” she smirked, nibbling on his ear and allowing him to breathe in the intoxicating scent of her perfume. “He and the others are in no position to intervene.”

“Not even if I call a moot, as is my right?” he countered, fully intending to end this farce once and for all.

When she heard his threat to call a moot, she giggled, as if remembering some private joke.

“Is there something you find humorous about being stripped of your position? He demanded, growing ever angrier at her playful antics. “That’s what will happen, if your crimes are revealed there.”

Kissing him lightly on the cheek, she looked him lustily in the eye. “Lord Triton, and the rest of the members of the Solar Council have all been appropriately dealt with,” she said, getting up from the bed. Removing the lid from the platter she revealed to him all manner of delicacies. Levitating a large strawberry, she offered it to him. “I do suggest trying these strawberries, they’re simply divine.”

Refusing the offered food, he glared up at her. “What have you done?” he demanded, worried for the first time that some terrible fate had befallen a majority of the pantheon.

“What was needed,” she replied, offered him a spoonful of cream. “Try the cream, Slave King, it’s quite delicious.”

Remembering the pact he had with Jormungandr and the others, his thoughts turned to his domain and its unguarded horrors. “Celestia, you must release me at once,” he commanded, struggling in vain against the chains that held him to the bed. “Release me, and I forswear any vengeance against you for this.”

“And why would I ever do that?” she asked, wearing a rather bemused expression. “My turn with you just started. And luckily for us, since you’re awake now, we’ll both be able to enjoy it.”

“Then you leave me no choice, Celestia,” he said, with a hint of finality. Drawing a deep breath, he uttered the true names of the only two he knew would aid him against her.

Within moments of having uttered the true names of his allies, a great whirlwind entered through the open balcony, revealing the sky blue plumage and silvery hide of a griffiness. Her piercing blue eyes studied the scene thoughtfully, as a ball of flame exploded beside her. Once the flames had dissipated, a large phoenix with bright red feathers and ruby eyes gazed at them expectantly.

“Why did you call us, Celestia?” the griffiness asked, as she looked at him with the ever familiar hunger he once knew.

“Lady Zephyr, it wasn’t I who summoned you here,” she replied, biting into a tiny cake. “But now that you’re here, would either of you care to join my husband and I for breakfast?”

“Only if I can enjoy the after breakfast activities, Celestia,” the phoenix seductively said, looking at the Slave King with an unfulfilled longing.

“Lady Suzaku, how scandalous!” Celestia teased, offering her a faux scolding.

“Now, Zuzu, Celestia’s turn just started,” Lady Zephyr said, admonishing her friend for being greedy. “You know the rules, we each get a month to ourselves.”

“But, Zephy!” Lady Suzaku pouted. “It’s no fair, he’s awake now. I don’t want to wait another whole year for my turn.”

He couldn’t understand why they were just standing there, hadn’t they sworn their undying devotion to him? Why didn’t they help free him, and what did Celestia mean by ‘my husband and I’?

“Anyways, Zuzu,” Lady Zephyr said, placing her talon on his leg. “Isn’t Cerynitis yours this month?”

“That popsicle, Zephy?” she replied, rolling her eyes with disdain. “He’s certainly no Slave King, or even Triton.”

“Wait, what?” he shouted, now completely confused by their conversation.

“Feeling jealous, husband?” Lady Suzaku asked, as she caressed his cheek with her wing.

“But I’m married to Luna…” he murmured, trying to comprehend how he could be the husband to three different goddesses simultaneously. “I was told I’d have to divorce her first, before marrying another.”

“Celestia, it appears our dear husband doesn’t recall what happened,” Lady Zephyr said, looking out the balcony towards the mountains in the distance.

“I take that it has something to do with the reasons behind my being chained to this bed,” he said, trying to discover the truth behind the cause of his imprisonment.

“The Solar Council went to war with each other, Slave King,” Celestia said, as her eyes threatened to well up with tears.

“You and the others destroyed everything,” Lady Suzaku added, wiping away a tear from her eye.

“Our son Dawson, and the all others, they’re dead,” Lady Zephyr said with a mournful sigh, remembering her little fledgling.

“Slave King, you’ve been asleep for nearly a century,” Celestia said, offering him another piece of fruit.

Accepting her offering, he chewed it thoughtfully before swallowing. “But that doesn’t explain this,” he said, gesturing to his chains.

“That’s because you’ve shared the same fate as the rest of the Solar Council,” Celestia said, feeding him some more.

“But my domain, I need to return to it,” he objected, as he struggled once more against the unyielding chains holding him captive. “Jormungandr told me…”

“The Winding One has exiled himself,” Lady Zephyr angrily said, pointing a talon accusingly at him. “Though I love you dearly, husband, for your crimes, you deserve to share Darkpaw’s fate.”

“Now, now, Zephy,” Lady Suzaku said, placing herself between them. “Our darling husband doesn’t seem to recall his minor part in the war.”

“There were no minor parts,” she bitterly replied, before burying her face in his chest. “My griffins, and our son are dead.”

“That’s why their punishment is rather fitting,” Celestia said, giving him a kiss. “Not a day doesn’t go by, that I don’t weep for the loss of my little ponies. But our foals have been such a blessing, and a balm to my heart.”

“I refuse to be a party to this perversion,” he said, pulling on his chains with all his might.

“Perversion?” Lady Zephyr replied, incensed that something as holy and sacred as procreation was being slandered so. “How dare you! You stole our children from us, it’s only fitting you offer us recompense.”

“Yes, beloved,” Lady Suzaku said. “You and the others all lay powerless and in torpor, restoring our children to us, while creation heals itself.”

“Now come, husband,” Celestia cooed into his ear. “Join with us, and sing the song of creation, so we might restore Equestria to what it once was.”

“No…” he moaned, as he fought against their gentle caresses. “No!”

Feeling their divinity enter him, he knew there was nothing he could do to protect himself against their advances. As Celestia climbed on top of him, he knew he was utterly at her mercy.

Trapped and unable to escape, he released a wail of despair.

“Ahhhhhhhh!” he screamed, before waking up beside his wife in his own bed.

It was dark now, he realized he must have slept through the day and most of the night. And though still weakened by his brush with death, his link to the earth and divinity were as strong as ever. Sighing in relief that he’d only been under a nightmare’s thrall, he looked towards his wife’s softly snoring form. Looking at the mistress of dreams, he felt some level of annoyance. Surely under her auspices, as her husband, he was entitled to protection from such. He felt her rousing from her sleep, as she turned to face him.

“Husband, art thou still of ill humor?” she yawned, the concern she held for him reflected in her large turquoise eyes.

“No, wife,” he coldly replied. “It was naught but a nightmare.”

Feeling hurt by his unexpected hostility, she laid back her ears with worry and looked at him imploringly. “Husband, please, we beseech thee,” she plead, reaching out to draw him close with her wing. “Allow us to aid thee, beloved, against the darkness that clouds thy mind and poisons thy heart.”

Looking up her, he considered her entreaty. He didn’t know what he should do with her. Even lovelier than her sister, Luna, the Beautiful, threatened to steal his breath away whenever he looked at her. With a coat the color of the night time sky, and mane and tail that shimmered like the stars in the heavens, one could lose themselves in their beauty. Though sorely tempted to accept her offered aid, he remembered the pain he felt when he last let his guard down, and withdrew from her touch.

Though his crippled condition had left him nearly an invalid, he dare not trust her with his safety. “Wife, the dawn approaches,” the Slave King said, hoping to evade her persistent nagging as he gestured towards the balcony attached to his room with his head.

Sensing his reluctance to accept her abetment, she tried unsuccessfully to hide her hurt. But knowing he was right, she exited the bed, and made her way to the balcony that overlooked the ruins of the Diamond Vale below. Looking up, she saw that her moon was still high in the pink tinted sky. It cast a small amount of illumination on the city, revealing the broken streets and ruined and collapsed buildings of the once great and vast city. Looking down, she saw the garden where they had been wed the night previous, and lightly blushed at the memory.

The garden, like the ruined city, had once been as desolate. But in less than the space of two weeks, in no small part thanks to her ponies’ hard work and efforts, it had been restored to its former glory. Looking at the ruins, and the dangers that lurked within, she knew it would be a long time before the Diamond Vale could be expected to share in the gardens fate. Looking over her shoulder at her husband, she saw him lying in their shared bed in convalescence. When he returned her loving gaze with a hardened flinty look, she sighed.

Just like their city, her husband would take some time to be restored to his former self. Her soul wanted to reach out to his and become one, making him truly understand the depth of her feelings for him. But she knew until he was ready, that could never be. Turning away from him with an aching heart, she prepared to perform her duty so that her sister might perform hers.

Unfurling her wings to reveal her gorgeous blue plumage, she focused her magic into her horn, and began communing with her native element. Rising into the air, she felt the power and majesty of the Lunar Domain flowing through her. The moon had been standing as a sentinel and guarding the night sky, and knew that its sibling was coming to relieve it soon. Calling out to it, Luna beckoned it to set, so it might rest and be prepared to stand as guardian for the upcoming night.

As the moon set, she felt her sister’s magic crossing paths with hers. Though they hadn’t left on the best of terms, she found herself missing her sister greatly. A small part of her nearly wished they had both married the Slave King, so there would be no need to be separated like this. But then she remembered the events of last night, and hardened her heart. Though he was her husband, he despised her, and steadfastly refused all her affections. However, he seemed to have no issue accepting her sister’s. Remembering the voice’s taunts, she scowled. Shooting her husband a dirty look, she took a deep breath, and silently vowed by the moot that he would have eyes only for her, or so help him.

Trotting over to their bed, she looked down at his weak form and smiled. “Husband,” she sweetly said. “Our duty has been fulfilled, as thou hast counseled us. Even now our sister sees to the sun. Come, beloved, let us greet the day together.”

“Very well, wife,” the Slave King agreed, sighing deeply as he struggled to get up. Silently cursing his hamstrung condition, he struggled to reach the communication gem affixed to the wall besides his bed.

Seeing what he was trying to do, Luna frowned. Using her magic, she pulled his hand away from the gem. When he shot her a questioning look, she shook her head, causing her magically billowing mane to shake. “Nay, husband,” she chided. “Didst thou so soon forget our oath to thee? We shall be thy helpmeet in this, and all other things. None other shalt touch thee.”

Growling that his normal routine was being thwarted by his wife’s meddling, he narrowed his eyes defiantly at her. “You’re putting my servants out of a job,” he said in the surliest manner possible, in hopes of dissuading her from any further attempts at meddling in his affairs.

“Then we suggest, husband, that thou assign our servants other divers tasks,” she patronizingly replied, letting him know she had no intentions of ever leaving his side until she was satisfied he was fully recovered.

“Woman, you try my patience,” he seethed, furious that there was nothing he could do against her playing as his nursemaid.

When she heard his complaint, she snorted indignantly. How dare he treat us like this! she thought to herself. Without us, he wouldst have perished.

What’s this, Luna? the ever familiar voice asked. Trouble in paradise?

Begone, deceiver! We hast no desire to speaketh with the likes of thee, she shouted, having little patience to deal with both her husband’s rudeness and the voice’s lies.

Now, now, Luna, the voice said, dripping with false sincerity. That’s no way to treat an old friend, now is it?

Leave us, we have nothing we wish to discuss with thee, she replied, refusing to entertain the voice’s desire for idle conversation which would most likely be slanderous against herself. We possess no desire to listen to thy wicked tongue.

Luna, you wound me with these accusations, the voice said with false sincerity. My only desire is to aid you in your quest to gain your husband’s affections.

Liar! she snarled, remembering how it had so cruelly mocked her last night. Thou only wish to sow hate and mistrust, and reap misery and despair.

But didn’t I push you towards the Slave King in the beginning? the voice countered. If you had had your way, you would’ve had nothing to do with him.

When she heard its counterargument, she was unable to deny the validity of its words. It was true, originally she felt her husband was nothing more than a petty tyrant. And if she had held the clout necessary, would’ve sought his removal from the pantheon. But something had changed within her, and for some inexplicable reason found herself drawn to him. And in the end, her initial attraction had changed from intrigue to love.

Thou speaketh true, she hesitantly admitted. But speaking one truth, dost not negate thy other wicked lies.

And didn’t I show you the path to victory over Lady Minoa, it continued, offering her a brief glimpse of their prior battle when she tasted the full power that the Domain of Shadows offered her.

We… that is, Luna said, stumbling over her words as she tried unsuccessfully discounting what the voice had said.

Lost your tongue, eh, Princess? the voice mockingly derided her. Face it, I’m the only friend you’ll ever have, the only one who’ll ever care about you.

Tis a falsehood! she shouted, unwilling to accept the voice’s argument. Our sister loves us, and our husband cares for us, though he knows not how to express it. Why else would he have aided us during the contest, or allowed us the chance to prove our innocence?

You foal! the voice hissed. Celestia’s simply using you to control the Slave King, and he would rid himself of you if he could.

When she heard the voice’s final slander against her sister and husband, the seeds of doubt and uncertainty found purchase within her heart. We hast nothing further to say to thee, deceiver, she said, desperate to end the conversation which was bringing her such heartache. We say to thee, take thy serpentine tongue and leap into the Pit!

Very well, Luna, I’ll take my leave of you… For now, the voice said with a dark chuckle. So go, fulfill your sister’s purpose, and serve your ungrateful husband. We’ll continue this conversation later.

Hearing the voice’s final taunt, Luna released a silent scream in her mind. Breathing heavily, and feeling enraged by her persecutor, she looked at the Slave King and wondered what if the voice had been speaking the truth? But then she remembered, her sister’s warm smile and was reassured that her sister did love her, no matter what the voice said. And as far as the Slave King was concerned, she was convinced she only needed to be patient with him, and her longsuffering would be rewarded when he would finally return her heartfelt affections.

Finally free from the voice’s distraction, she approached their shared bed to assist her husband, who was struggling to sit up. “Come, husband,” she said, with a voice that belied her earlier anger and frustration towards his rude and surly behavior. “Allow us to assist you in getting ready for the day.”

The Slave King gripped the silken sheets tightly, as he stubbornly attempted his quest to get out of the bed on his own power. After his ninth attempt and failure, he rested his head against the headboard, and sighed in frustration. “Very well, wife,” he said, looking up at the ceiling in defeat. “Do as you will.”

Pleased that he was no longer fighting her attempts to serve him, Luna beamed a wide smile at her husband, and stamped her hooves in excitement. “Oh, beloved, this shalt be such delightful fun,” she giggled.

When he heard her exuberance, he frowned. Somehow he knew he was going to regret this. “Wife, you’ll find my clothing in the wardrobe,” he instructed, motioning with his head towards a large intricately carved stone dresser. “Inside you’ll find my usual attire.”

Trotting over towards the wardrobe, Luna opened the stone doors and was impressed by the skill and workponyship of its creation. She could tell great care had gone into its manufacture. In fact, when she examined the rest of the furniture in the room, she noticed that similar care had gone into each of the stone pieces.

Noticing his wife’s interest in the wardrobe, the Slave King nodded thoughtfully. “Wife,” he said. “Do you like it?”

Turning towards him to reply, she nodded once and smiled. “Verily, husband,” she said, studying the intricate designs that had been carved into its surface. “We must applaud the stone carver for their skill.”

“I made it, and the other pieces you see,” he said, neither bragging nor boasting. “If you like, I’d be happy to make one for you as well.”

When she heard his unsolicited offer, her heart swelled with joy. Perhaps he was warming up to her already. “Verily, husband,” she said, trying to hide her happiness. “We wouldst be honored to accept thy gift.”

“Though I’ll need to get out of bed first,” he said, offering her a mild rebuke for making him wait for his pants.

“Of course, beloved,” Luna said, returning her attention towards his clothes. When she picked up each article of clothing and examined it with her magic, she frowned at how plain and even threadbare most of them were. Surely he didn’t expect her to allow him to dress as a pauper or vagabond. “Husband, we art somewhat concerned by the condition of thy raiment.”

“Oh, and why is that?” he asked, giving her his undivided attention. “Did the moths manage to finally devour all my clothes?”

“Nay,” she said, levitating several pairs of pants towards him, each more threadbare than the last. “The condition of thy pantaloons is deplorable, and thy tunics have assuredly seen better days.”

“They serve their purpose, wife,” the Slave King said, arching his brow at her disapproval of his choice of fashion. “Come, just pick something and help me get dressed.”

Frowning in displeasure, she selected the least tattered shirt and trousers, and levitated them to the bed. Silently she vowed, that with the fashionista Ringing Bells for help, her husband would shine like the moon. Using her magic, she removed the sheets from their bed and levitated him up off it. Now floating freely, she approached him and gazed appreciatively at his pale skin and hardened muscled body. She still remembered how he’d lustily gazed at her on their wedding night, and lamented that his foul curse had prevented her from enjoying that which was hers by right.

Looking at him slyly, she began removing his clothing with her mouth. “Husband,” she said, flicking her tail as she blushed with desire. “Dost thou desireth to take liberties with us? If so, allow us to serve thee properly.”

The Slave King glowered at her. What was she thinking? Why the blazes would she think he had the slightest desire towards her, after what had happened between them? “I only wish to get dressed, and then enjoy my breakfast,” he coldly said, caring little that his words of rejection pained her heart.

Disappointed that he’d rejected her advances, she used her magic to finish undressing and then clothing him for the day. Looking at him dressed in his tattered and well-worn clothes, she wondered, Could this possibly be the same stallion we married? Biting her lip, she remembered how splendid he looked in his finery, and wished he looked as good now. Levitating her husband’s cloak, she examined the pelt that had once belonged to the previous lord of earth.

Lord Darkpaw had been a fierce hound, and even her mate for a time, back in the first age of ponies. Now she found it surreal, dressing her current husband in her former husband’s skin. Draping the pelt across his broad shoulders, and connecting its clasp to the hook, she gave it a slight tug, ensuring it wouldn’t fall.

For his part, when the Slave King felt the cloak resting on his shoulders, he felt more like himself than he’d ever felt in more than a century. There was something invigorating about it, which made him feel alive and powerful. And now there was only one thing left to make him complete, his iron crown. The crown, more a helmet than anything else, was made from a mix of arcanum and iron ore, and was the very symbol of his power and authority as the sovereign of the Domain of Earth. Often times those who beheld it, even those among his own subjects, trembled with fear. For those who crossed him, usually met with a terrible fate. But of late, he’d grown somewhat weary of being so feared, and often yearned to rule with a lighter touch.

Seeing Luna struggling to levitate his crown, he lightly chuckled. “Wife,” he said, his burning emerald eyes flashing with mischief. “My crown is absorbing your magic. I suggest levitating the iron inside instead. The arcanum will have no choice but to follow.”

Nodding once, she used her magic to locate only the iron within the crown. But because the earth was not her native element, she found it somewhat difficult to do.

Seeing her struggle, the Slave King reached out with his magic and mingled it with hers. “Wife, allow me to assist you,” he said, as his magically burning eyes flared with power.

As she felt his magic mingling with hers, she found his cold distant heart suddenly within her reach. Reaching out with her own magic, she poured hers into him, allowing him to feel the love and devotion she held for him. Their divinity now combined as one, she easily found the iron in his crown, and together, they levitated the crown, and placed it on his head.

Now fully dressed, both Luna and the Slave King no longer needed to mingle their magic. However, neither moved to withdraw from the other. They looked at each other, neither wishing to speak, lest the moment be lost forever to the aether, and yet their shared silence spoke volumes.

Finally breaking the silence, Luna offered him a warm smile. “Husband,” she said, with a light blush, wishing she could be even closer to him.

“Wife,” he replied, grateful that his crown hid his flushed face from her.

“Come, beloved, let us eat,” she said, gentling lifting him onto her back with her magic.

“Wife,” he said, suddenly feeling self-conscience about riding her like some common animal. “It’s unseemly riding you like a land wyrm going to war. I have servants who can carry me.”

Chuckling lightly at his concerns, she looked over her shoulder at him. “Husband, serving thee is our privilege and honor,” she said, nuzzling his leg with her muzzle. “We art not ashamed to be seen carrying thee.”

Knowing he wouldn’t win the argument, he relented and allowed her do as she willed. Exiting their bedchamber together, the couple continued sharing their magic as they headed to the kitchens to share their first of many breakfasts together.

*****

Carefully poking his head out from the cloud he was hiding in, he scanned the skies for the telltale signs of his griffin pursuers. He hoped that his white coat would help hide him from their sharp eyes. He just prayed that his yellow mane and tail wouldn’t give away his position. Poking his head down through the cloud, he scanned the landscape with his sapphire eyes looking for a good place to hide if he was somehow discovered. Suddenly he felt his right ear twitching like mad, without a second thought, he leapt off the cloud and plummeted like a rock to the earth below. Not seconds later, the cloud exploded in a puff of white, as two furious griffins dive bombed into it.

Looking up, he saw the annoyed griffins pumping their wings as they prepared to dive towards him once more. With a wry grin, he unfurled his wings and spun, trying to control his descent. Behind him, he heard their angry cries as they prepared for the kill. Once more his ear twitched, and he knew what that meant. Opening his wings fully, he was catapulted up, as his wings caught air. To either side of him, he felt his pursuers rush past him in a blur of fur and feathers, as he gained the upper hoof.

Looking at the brand superimposed over his cutie mark, he realized traveling this deep into griffin territory had been a mistake, one that had just nearly cost him his life. The brand he wore was of a pair of large jaws biting down on a gem, surrounded by broken chains. The brand, which marked him as a free citizen of the Domain of Earth, was universally feared and hated by most of the denizens of the other various domains. Because those who wore the citizen’s brand usually participated in the slave trade, few outside the Domain of Earth would have anything to do with anypony who bore one.

Although he’d taken steps to hide his brand, ponies were still looked down upon by the griffins of the Domain of Air. And all it had taken was an innocuous slip of his tongue when ordering a drink from the tavern he’d been visiting, for the griffins to take exception to his presence. Unfortunately for him, the altercation had escalated beyond words, into blows, and quickly devolved into a full on brawl, which had revealed him to be a free citizen of the South, and their sworn blood enemy.

But none of that mattered now, all that mattered was somehow surviving this encounter, and hopefully living to see another day. Turning away from his brand, he fell back on the familiar. Being militarily trained, he knew that in aerial combat, victory usually went to the one with the higher altitude. With only seconds to make a decision, he studied his foes. The first was much larger than his companion, with a much larger wing span and hooked beak. He possessed grey and black plumage, owned a slate colored pelt, and judging by his muscles, would easily overpower him in a straight up fight. While his companion was decidedly more feminine, had silvery streamlined wings and a tawny coat, and was the smaller of the two. And though she was nearly half the other’s size, judging by her wings, she was the more skilled flyer.

Feeling his heart beating heavily in his chest, he activated the latent magic in his arcanum shod hooves, releasing sharp spikes, and made his choice. Pulling his wings to his sides, the pegasus dropped like a stone at the unwitting griffins below. Moments later, he felt his sharp hooves digging deeply into unprotected griffin flesh. With a cry of pain and surprise, the griffiness’s wings flailed about helplessly as they both plummeted to the unforgiving ground beneath them.

The other griffin, seeing his companion’s distress, reached out a talon in concern for her. Looking up, the pegasus could see his fear and anger towards him reflected in their large golden eyes. Knowing that this was his chance to escape, he dug his hooves deeper into the griffiness for good measure, breaking her delicate bones and rending her flesh, as she shrieked in agony from his assault. Opening his wings, he felt himself forcibly ripped away from his victim, sending blood and feathers flying everywhere.

Narrowly missing hitting her compatriot, he saw the griffin give him one last hate filled look as he tried reaching the griffiness before her body was dashed upon the stony earth beneath them. Pumping his wings as hard as he could, he frantically searched for someplace where he could lose the other griffin. Far in the distance, he saw exactly what he needed, a dense thicket of thorns. Ignoring the cries of fury echoing from behind him, he tucked in his wings, and shot towards the safety of the thicket like an arrow.

As he drew closer towards the thorny forest, he altered his trajectory, hoping to achieve a vector that would allow him to navigate unmolested through the tight space between the tangles of thick thorns. Behind him in the distance, he heard a screeching cry of fury, signaling that his pursuer was resuming the chase. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he pumped his wings as hard as he could, hoping to reach the thicket before the griffin could reach him.

Not daring to look behind him, he felt his heart pound and senses heighten, as adrenaline surged through his veins. He felt the wind rushing through his mane and pull at his tail, imagining it to be the cruel talons of the griffin behind him. Beating his wings even harder, his eyes began to tear up and burn as he searched in desperation for an opening big enough to accommodate himself, but small enough to deny passage to the griffin who was in hot pursuit.

Spying an opening in the thicket’s thorny canopy, he studied it for a moment before committing himself to a new flight path. The opening was scarcely bigger than himself, and would require that he navigate through dozens of razor sharp thorns and a tangle of choking vines. Any of which would spell his demise. Tilting his wings, and spreading his feathers, he banked sharply to the north before entering a sharp dive into the waiting thorns, to either his salvation or doom.

Feeling a slight tingle in his hooves as his right ear twitched, he twisted his wings slightly and entered a roll, right as he felt himself being grazed by a pair of powerful talons. Without missing a beat, he adjusted his angle of descent once more, hoping to shoot right through the middle of the waiting opening. A frustrated cry pierced the air behind him, nearly stopping his heart. However he steeled himself, and drove back the fear that threatened to petrify him. Instead, choosing to use it to push himself even harder.

He could see the safety of the thicket clearly now. Though his eyes weren’t nearly as sharp as a griffin’s, he could clearly make out the many thorns that waited for him below. They jutted out of the opening like the maw of some wild beast, just waiting to feed on the succulent flesh of anypony who was foolish enough to approach it. His mouth, like his eyes, felt dry and parched. He knew he would have only one opportunity, if he failed, all he had to look forward to if he was lucky was being mortally wounded by thorny perforation, and if he was unlucky, being torn to pieces by an angry griffin.

Drawing ever closer to the thicket, his senses heightened even further. He felt the wind pulling at his feathers, and smelled the bitter scent of the flowering spines and thistles of the thicket wafting past his nose as he dove towards it. It seemed as if eternity passed between the beats of his heart, while the threatening thorns waited to greet him and the griffin’s talons promising to end him. Feeling tiny pin pricks crawling up his left-rear leg, he twisted his wings once more, and spun counterclockwise. Once again, he felt the griffin’s talons grazing his flesh.

Now nearly three lengths away from the thicket, he tried correcting his descent before he ended up crashing into the waiting thorns. Angling his wings, he righted himself, and entered the small opening between the thicket’s sharp thorns, before narrowly missing being impaled by a large jutting spine. All around him, thorns and spines threatened to end him if he veered even a hair breadth off the correct path. He felt a slight tickle along his belly, and tucked his legs against himself as tightly as he could. When he felt the razor sharp thorns raking against his hind legs, he winced. Which, all things considered, could have been much worse had he failed to raise his legs in time.

The deeper he flew into the thicket, the darker it became, and soon he had to rely solely on the various twitches, flops, and tickles that served as a sort of sixth sense for him. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, hoped for the best, and followed his itching nose. Like a piece of thread through the eye of a needle, he flew through the deadly thicket, unscathed for the most part. Only when he failed to react fast enough to his body’s direction, did he suffer any harm.

He felt his tail shake, and left eye start twitching. Immediately, he flared out his wings, causing him to nearly be perpendicular to the ground beneath him. Pushing out his legs as hard he could, he felt his arcanum shod hooves slam hard into a bramble nearly as thick as a large oak tree. Flapping his wings a few times to stabilize himself, he looked up at the dark canopy overhead, before gazing down at the ground, a few lengths beneath him. Retracting the metal spikes back into his horseshoes, he freed himself from the thick bramble, and landed gently on the thicket floor.

Now finally able to catch his breath, he felt his flesh feel as if it were on fire. Turning his head, he saw that he had many cuts and gashes all around his flanks and barrel. Softly moaning in pain, he reached out with his hoof to examine the extent of his wounds, and grimaced when he saw it stained crimson with his own blood. Reaching into his saddlebag to retrieve some water and the meager medical kit he always carried, he silently cursed when he discovered the hole torn inside it. Fortunately, his canteen was larger than the hole and had managed to stay inside his saddlebag. Taking a small sip of water, he poured a liberal amount of it on his wounds in order to clean them. Hissing through his teeth in pain, he involuntarily flinched away, as the sensation of the cool water against his wounded flesh stung like the Pit and Hades combined.

By the Pit, Bucky! he said to himself, desperately wishing he had something to take the edge off his pain. That sure stings like the lash.

Looking at his surroundings, he found that he had trouble seeing more than a length in front of him. Returning to his saddlebags, he rummaged through them looking for anything he could use for light. But unfortunately, like the medical kit, the magic lantern he’d had, was also missing. The only thing that seemed to have survived the chase, beyond his canteen, was a large bag of bits, each baring the Slave King’s likeness. Before today, he’d always thought that beyond his freedom, nothing mattered more than money. But now bleeding, wounded, and stumbling about blind in the dark, he knew the true value of money. If given the chance, he’d have traded the entire sum, nearly fifteen hundred, for a bit of light, or some clean bandages to dress his wounds.

But then he noticed something. It was entirely too quiet. Before, he’d heard birds chirping and insects buzzing. But now, all he could hear was silence. He felt his right ear twitch, and knew he was being stalked by the griffin. Looking at his surroundings, he searched desperately for a means to escape. He thought that he might try flying away, but he was too weak and tired, and his wings refused to move. Preparing to defend himself from an invisible enemy that could attack from anywhere, he backed up against a large bramble to protect his back.

When his back hit the bramble, he looked behind him and spied an opening big enough for him to wriggle through. Giving his surroundings a quick look, he pushed against the bramble in an effort to get through. Gritting his teeth in pain as the thorns scratched his wounds and caught on his coat, he felt himself moving forward, until he finally broke free. Not wanting to face his griffin pursuer, he ran as fast as his weak and exhausted constitution allowed him to.

Pushing his weakened body as hard as he could, he galloped blindly through the dense underbrush of the thicket trying to escape. In the distance he could hear the rustling of leaves and twigs snapping, as the much larger griffin pursued him through the dark thicket. Exhausted and winded, he knew that if he didn’t keep moving he wouldn’t survive. Ignoring the brambles that were catching and pulling on his mane and tail, he charged through the thorny underbrush without any regard for the pain he was feeling.

After running for several minutes, he no longer heard his griffin pursuer behind him. Swiveling his ears back and forth, he paused for a minute to catch his breath and see if he’d finally lost him. Unable to hear anything moving, he sighed with relief, finally he was safe. Looking at his surroundings, he noticed it was much easier to see in the clearing that he’d found himself in. Smelling the air in case his ears were deceiving him, he was relieved when he only smelt the bitter scent of the briar thicket and himself.

Examining the thicket, he saw that almost every bramble was nearly as large as a full grown tree, and possessed thorns and spines as thick as, or thicker than his foreleg. Looking up at the canopy overhead, he tried determining which way was north to help orient himself. Suddenly his right ear began twitching once more.

“Oh no, not again,” he muttered under his breath, as he rushed towards the middle of the clearing.

Before he’d managed to move three lengths, a large dark shape smashed into the ground where he’d been resting at. Turning to confront his stalker, he narrowed his eyes, dug his hooves into the rocky soil, and prepared to defend himself. Peering into the shadows, all he could see was a vague, dark shape breathing heavily. Inhaling deeply through his nostrils, he caught the scent of feathers, blood, and anger. Knowing that he didn’t have much time, he slowly backed away from the large dark shape, as he searched for an escape route.

Through the shadows and poor lighting, he saw the dark shape of his stalker take a step forward. Digging his hooves lightly into the unyielding soil, he shook his mane once as he prepared to defend himself. When the shadowy form took another step forward, he sucked in his breath through his teeth, making a slight hiss. Feeling his heart pounding in his chest, he knew he was no match for the much larger creature. Pound for pound, they outweighed him nearly three-to-one, and had talons besides. There was no way he could win.

Perhaps he’s weakened and bloodied from the forest like me, he thought, as he activated the spikes in his horseshoes.

“Slaver scum,” a rough guttural voice accused.

Feeling his aching wings threatening to flare out in fear, he stomped his hooves a few times to buoy his courage. Peering into the shadows, he saw a pair of golden eyes opening into slits, staring back at him. Slowly backing away from his accuser, he kept his eyes peeled as he looked for a means to escape.

“Thanks to you, pony, she’ll probably never fly again,” they growled in a low even tone, suggesting unbridled rage was simmering right beneath the surface and was just waiting for the slightest provocation to be unleashed. “Not that you care, slaver.”

“Who’ll never fly again?” he asked, trying to buy himself some time.

“You know damn well who!” the voice roared, from the approaching shadow, allowing the light filtering through the canopy to flash against their strong, sharp beak.

“Oh,” he replied, thinking back to their griffin companion. He could still see the abject terror and pain etched into her face, when he’d sent her plummeting to her doom. “I take it she survived?”

“Oh, just barely,” they replied, raking their talons against a nearby bramble, leaving three deep gashes that began weeping sap.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, spying a narrow space between two large gnarled brambles. Backing up towards it, he nearly jumped when one of his hooves broke a branch, making a large snap.

“I’m going to do to you, what you did to her,” the voice said, coming ever closer.

By now, they were close enough that he could see their grey and black plumage illuminated by the dim light of the thicket. Looking at them, he could nearly feel the griffin’s fury as they took another few steps towards him.

“Perhaps if you took your friend to the nearest town, she might be all right,” he offered, moving towards his planned escape, and hopefully salvation.

“She’s my sister!” the griffin roared, swiping his talon against some low hanging vines that were in his way, neatly cleaving them in twain.

“Well, all the more reason for you to get her to a healer,” he replied, glancing towards the narrow gap, and calculating how much time he’d have before the griffin could reach him.

“No,” the griffin said, shaking his head. “The nearest town is leagues away, slaver scum. She’d never make it in time.”

“Hey look,” he said, preparing to make his escape. “I’m sorry about your sister. Truly I am. But you attacked me first. I had to defend myself.”

When the griffin heard his words, he tilted his head slightly, and offered him an incredulous look, suggesting that he’d taken great offense at his excuse. “Spare me your lies, pony,” he said, grinding his teeth together.

“No, it’s true. I swear it!” he exclaimed, taking another few steps towards freedom.

“I wonder how many others you fooled and enslaved with your lies, pony?” the griffin asked, running his tongue against his beak in anticipation of the kill.

He was about to protest his innocence, but then thought back to the reindeer battlemage he’d sold to the Slave King, and remained silent.

“Your silence is telling, slaver scum,” the griffin said, tightening their muscles and preparing to pounce on their prey. “I’ll make you pay for hurting my sister, and for our mother.”

Breathing heavily, he moved within five lengths of the gap. Knowing he needed to keep the griffin talking, he nervously bit his lip, took a deep breath, and hoped they would take the bait. “What happened to your mother?” he asked, hoping they would choose to answer rather than attack in rage.

“Shut your mouth, you damn slaving monster!” the griffin roared, furious that he’d dared to speak of her. “She was taken away by a bunch of no good pony slavers, just like you.”

That’s right, he thought, stealing another glance at the gap that was now within spitting distance. Keep talking, griffin.

“I figure once you’re dead, pony,” he said with a vindictive smile. “There will be one less feather stealing, slaver scum for my people to worry about.”

Deciding that it was now or never, he steeled himself and prepared to make his getaway. “It’s a shame that you failed to protect your sister, like your mother, griffin,” he taunted, hoping to send him into a rage and making him lose all control, as he dashed towards the narrow gap that promised his escape.

As soon as he heard him speak, the griffin released a primal scream of fury, and leapt at the fully prepared pegasus. Scrambling for the gap, he pushed past the thorns without a second thought, as the much larger griffin slammed into the thick and twisted brambles. Scrambling through the gap, he heard the griffin’s screams of rage, as the brambles denied him entry.

“I’ll kill you, pony!” the griffin cried out, making sure his blood oath reached the ears of his prey. “I swear by the first egg, and on my ancestor’s honor, you will die by my talons.”

Normally, he might’ve been tempted to taunt them further, but he was much too exhausted and tired to make the effort. Besides, he’d heard it was bad luck to mock an oath maker who had invoked their ancestors. Moving away from the furious griffin and deeper into the thorn choked thicket, he searched for a safe place to rest and recover.

After walking for about fifteen minutes, he heard a familiar sound. Tilting his ears, to confirm his suspicions, he inhaled deeply through his nose, and smiled. It was unmistakable, he’d found a source of running water. And if his nose wasn’t lying to him, he’d also found some berry baring bushes.

Inwardly cheering at his good fortune, he walked towards the stream so he could drink and eat his fill, tend to his bleeding wounds, and finally get some rest. The smell of the berries filling his nose and the sound of the running water gave him renewed strength. He’d felt so weak before, but now he was filled with a sense of hope, that everything would be all right.

The stream and berry bushes were in view now. He could already taste the cool refreshing water on his parched tongue, and taste the sweet berries filling up his stomach. He simply needed to go a bit further, and then everything would be fine. Reaching the stream, he prepared to lower his head to slate his thirst, but then felt his right ear beginning to twitch.

Freezing in place, and only a hairbreadth away from satisfying his great thirst, he looked at the tempting water and sighed. Backing away from the stream, he looked at his surroundings cautiously, trying to determine where the griffin stalking him was hiding at.

“Um, hello,” he heard somepony say, with a slightly high pitched feminine voice.

Not seeing anypony, he looked around confusedly for the source of the voice.

“Ah, down here, traveler,” he heard the voice say.

“Excuse me?” he asked, not sure who it was he addressing, and not altogether sure he hadn’t lost his mind yet from thirst and hunger.

“Down here, in the lotus berry bush,” the voice replied.

Looking down at the bushes near his hooves, all he saw were presumably lotus berries and large white flowers. Moving his muzzle closer to the lotus berry blossoms, he inhaled their scent once, and finding it sweet, opened his mouth to eat a few.

“Ah, stop! Please don’t eat me!” he heard the voice shriek in terror from inside his mouth.

Opening his mouth, he spit out the sweet tasting flower, and saw to his amazement, a tiny yellow pony with gossamer wings looking angrily up at him.

“Hey!” the tiny creature demanded, clearly put out by having been nearly eaten by him. “What the hay do you think you were trying to do?”

Taken aback by the tiny pony, he didn’t know quite what to say. “My apologies,” he said, after giving it some thought. “I didn’t mean to eat your house. I was just trying to get something to eat.”

The tiny creature, still wringing out his saliva from her purple mane gave him a sour look. “I’ll have you know, I don’t live in a bush,” she indignantly said, feeling slighted that he’s assumed she lived in the wilds like some uncivilized brute. “I live in one of the most renowned and celebrated ziggurats in all of Autumn.”

Relieved that the only thing he had to worry about was a pony small enough to fit inside a teacup, he began satisfying his parched tongue and empty belly. “So… uh, whatever you are,” he said, in between mouthfuls of flowers and berries. “Do you happen to know the quickest path out of this thicket, and where the nearest nongriffin settlement is?”

“How dare you!” she squeaked, annoyed by his ill-manners and lack of proper decorum for a lady of her standing. “It’s rude to make demands of somepony you just met, without introducing yourself first.”

Deciding he could ill-afford to offend the first non-aggressive creature he’d seen all day, he decided to humor her. Finishing his meal, he flashed her a small grin. “My name is Pecan Buckeye Pie,” he said, with a slight bow. “But you can call me Bucky, all my friends do.”

The tiny pony gave him an appraising look, as she hovered in front of him. Nodding once, she landed lightly on his muzzle, placed her front hooves together, and bowed her head. “Welcome traveler, I am Glitterwing, apprentice to the great kirin sage, Zhange,” she said, before opening her wings once more and gently taking off into the air. Flittering around him, she took stock of her new acquaintance. When she noticed how bad his wounds looked, her muzzle became ashen. “Oh dear, you’re wounded quite badly.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, trying unsuccessfully to open his wings, so he could inspect them for damage. “I ran into a pair of griffins, each of which seemed to have a grudge against me.”

Glitterwing nodded understandingly, as she ran her tiny hooves along his body, trying to see the extent of his injuries. “Oh dear, I’m surprised you're even still conscious, let alone standing,” she remarked, when she noted how much blood he’d seeming lost.

“Tell me about it,” he said, wincing as she began removing several thorns from his barrel. “And the worst part is, during the chase I lost my medical kit.”

“Don’t worry, traveler,” she said, flying into the lotus berry bush. “I have some pear wine we can use to disinfect your wounds, and I know where some herbs grow that we can use to treat them as well.”

“Ah, thank you, Glitterwing,” he said, laying down on his weary legs.

“Just rest,” she told him, offering him a reassuring smile. “It’ll only take me a few minutes to gather the herbs.”

Leaning up against a nearby giant bramble, he closed his eyes, and waited for her to return.

After a few minutes had passed, he heard the bushes rustle. “Ah, back already?” he asked, yawning deeply.

Opening his eyes, he nearly had a heart attack when he saw the griffin looking at him less than half a length away. With a murderous gleam in his eye, the griffin towered over his prone form. Looking at his much larger opponent, Bucky knew there was nothing else he could do, he only hoped the griffin would spare Glitterwing. Raising his talon high over his head. Bucky’s eyes grew wide, as he looked at the three sharp talons that would shortly end his life.

“Step away from him!” he heard Glitterwing shout.

The griffin looked away from his prize in surprise at the demand, and looked back and forth trying to determine the identity of the one who would so foolishly dare interfere with his kill. “Who dares to get between a griffin and his prey?” he growled, flicking his tail back and forth in anticipation of a fight.

“No, Glitterwing,” Bucky said, too weak to save himself, but hoping to spare her from being the griffin’s next victim. “Escape while you still can!”

“I do, you uncivilized brute!” Glitterwing said, flying out the lotus berry bush and wearing a stern look. Pausing to look at Bucky to make sure he was still okay, she hovered in front of the griffin, and folded her forelegs in front of her in challenge. “I’ll only say this once more, step away from the pegasus.”

The griffin sneered derisively at the tiny yellow pony, and laughed. “Bawahaha. What are you going to do if I don’t,” the griffin said, flashing his teeth and beak menacingly at her. “If you don’t go away small fry, I might decide to make you into a snack.”

“I’m warning you, you big oaf,” Glitterwing threatened, leveling a steely eyed glare at him. “If you don’t leave now, I’m going to have to forcibly remove you.”

“Get lost, pipsqueak,” the griffin said, flicking the tiny pony away from his face with his talons.

“Ouch!” she cried, when she roughly landed in the bushes. “That’s it, you brute! You asked for it.”

Ignoring her hollow threats, the griffin returned his attention to Bucky, trying to decide how best to kill him. Perhaps ripping him to shreds with his talons, would be best. But then there was always gutting him and ripping out his entrails. Of course, there was always the old standby, breaking the pony’s neck with his beak. With so many choices available to him, it was tough to decide.

With a malicious grin, the griffin drug one of his talons along Bucky’s barrel, drawing blood. Seeing the pegasus flinching in pain, brought a small piece of happiness to his anger filled heart. “I think, pony, I’m going enjoy this,” he said with a dark chuckle. “You however, I’m not so sure.”

Bucky just lay against the bramble, too tired to move or escape. But before the griffin could begin administering his brutal justice on the pegasus, he felt a sharp pain striking his flanks.

“Ow!” he yelped, as he rubbed his backside gingerly with his talon. Turning around, he became furious when he saw Glitterwing flying behind him, glowing, as arcane power filled her being. “I’ll get you for that, you flying rat!”

When she heard herself being compared to a disgusting rodent, she scowled angrily at him. Without another word, she released a bolt of energy at the griffin, sending him flying towards a nearby bramble.

With a cry of pain, the griffin flew high into the air and landed hard against the gnarled bramble. Winded, and in great pain, the griffin struggled to get up. Hobbling towards them, he gave the two of them a hate filled look. “This isn’t over yet, pony,” he snarled, before limping away into the dense underbrush of the thicket. Before disappearing completely into the undergrowth, he turned and glared at them one last time while running a talon across his throat.

Satisfied that the griffin had retreated for now, Glitterwing hovered above Bucky and looked at his newest wound with concern. “I’m sorry I took so long,” she apologized, pouring about a thimbles worth of wine on the gash.

Sucking in his breath sharply at the stinging sensation, he looked up at the tiny pony tending his wounds, and offered her a smile of gratitude. “Thanks,” he said, resting against the bramble. “If you hadn’t come when you did, I would’ve been a goner.”

“Well, I couldn’t just let him do whatever he wanted,” she said, pulling out a few thorns and dabbing his wounds with the sweet smelling pear wine. “Besides, that oaf should’ve know better than going hunting in Autumn as if he owned the place.”

“So how did you do it?” Bucky asked, feeling a new found respect for the diminutive mare.

“How did I do what?” she asked, preparing a poultice with the herbs she’d gathered.

“Blasting that griffin into next week,” he said, wincing as she gingerly applied the herbal salve to one of his larger gashes.

“Oh that,” she absentmindedly said, while tending to his wounds. “That was nothing special, just a rudimentary repulsion spell.”

“I only thought unicorns could use magic like that,” he said, spreading his wings so she could apply the ointment to them.

“Unicorns, ha!” she said, derisively rolling her eyes at such a ridiculous idea. “Unicorns could only dream of having the raw arcane power a flutterpony possesses.”

“So is that what you are?” he asked, curious as to what other secrets she might hold.

“Of course,” she said, slightly annoyed by such a redundant question. Flittering about him, she inspected her hooftiwork, and nodded in approval when she saw that he seemed to be patched up as well as could be had in the thicket. “So are you well enough to move?”

Standing upright, he felt his muscles ache in response. “Ugh,” he groaned, wishing he could lie back down and rest some more. “Yeah, I’ll live, Glitterwing. Just as long as I don’t have to fight anymore griffins.”

“Good,” she said, happily clopping her hooves together. “Now we can discuss the small matter of your payment for services rendered.”

“Payment…” he balked, not liking where the conversation was headed.

“Yes,” she said, poking his saddlebag once with her hoof, which made the bits inside jingle delightfully together. “I believe saving your life, and tending to your wounds entitles me to at least some form of compensation.”

Had he not been so wounded and exhausted, Bucky might have been tempted to make a break for it. Although grateful to the aid the flutterpony had rendered to him, parting with his beautiful bits left a bitter taste in his mouth. Besides, he didn’t want to risk the mare’s wrath. She’d easily dispatched the griffin, and if he tried escaping without paying her, there was no telling how she might retaliate against him.

Sighing at the injustice of it all, Bucky reached for his saddlebag to grab some bits. “Very well,” he grudgingly said, unhappy that he had to pay her.

Rubbing her hooves together in anticipation, she watched his saddlebag like a hawk, wondering exactly how many bits he was carrying on him. As he worked on untying the strap that held the saddlebags closed, they shifted forward, allowing her to get a good look at the brand burned into his flesh. Though she knew very little about pony cutie marks, she immediately recognized the mark he carried, and what it represented.

The Slave King, she murmured to herself, as her eyes traced the image of a pair of large jaws biting into a gem, though she noted the absence of intact chains as being rather peculiar.

Now anypony who was worth their salt as a scholar, knew the various marks of the gods that made up the Pantheon. For example, Princess Celestia’s was a stylized sun, and Princess Luna’s was the moon, each representing the celestial body they controlled. Lord Triton had a trident over an unrolled scroll, and Lord Ouroboros used a dragon skull wreathed in flames. Not only were their divine symbols used to mark their various territories, they were also used in their heraldry and seals. As for the Slave King, sure enough Bucky carried his mark, but with one important difference… the chains. The chains were broken. What significance this held, Glitterwing didn’t know, but she intended to find out.

Hovering in front of his muzzle, she looked him straight in the eye. “So, Bucky,” she said, pointing a tiny hoof accusingly at him. “Tell me, when did you intend on telling me you were from the Domain of Earth?”

“Damn it,” he swore under his breath. Though she didn’t strike him as somepony who would attack him for simply being from the South, he knew that any further aid she might have been willing to render him, was now forfeit. “So what gave me away?”

“Well it wasn’t too difficult to piece together,” she said, wearing a slightly smug grin. “Why else would a griffin chase you all the way in here? Besides, you bare the Slave King’s mark.”

“Look,” he sighed in resignation, wishing his former status as a slave would stop haunting him. “Just tell me how much I owe you for your help, point me in the direction of the nearest town, and I’ll be on my way.”

When she heard his request, she shook her head slightly, causing her purple mane to fall in front of her eyes. Brushing it away with her magic, she gave him a careful look. “Perhaps we can come to an arrangement,” she said, looking thoughtfully at the brand scarring his flank.

Realizing he was dealing with a scholar, he felt relieved that his bits were safe for now, but wondered why she seemed so interested in the South. “Okay, Glitterwing. I’m listening,” he said, wondering exactly what he was getting himself into.

“So tell me, Bucky,” she said, her greed for knowledge displayed as plainly as the muzzle on her face. “What can you tell me about the Slave King?”

“Well what I do know, might take a while to tell,” he replied, hoping to milk his info into a hot meal and warm bed.

“Alright, I’ll take you to the ziggurat,” Glitterwing said, flying towards the lotus berry bushes to gather her things. “Though we’d better leave now, if we want to arrive before nightfall. It’s a good hour away by hoof.”

Bucky started walking towards her, but then caught sight of the leftover herbal ointment she’d made for him. Feeling his bruised and battered body’s aches and pains, he made his decision. Although he might regret it later, he knew what needed to be done.

“Hey, Glitterwing?” he asked his new friend. “Can we make a small detour first?”

*****

It was almost dark now, and he was sure she’d perished by now. What was supposed to only be a twenty minute errand, had turned into an all day excursion. And now not only was his sister dead, unless he managed to get some food and shelter soon, he’d most likely be following her to the grave as well. If only he’d been better prepared to take his revenge, instead of gloating like a fool. That pegasus had played him, and now he was in dire straits indeed.

The nearest griffin settlement was nearly an hour’s flight away. How long by paw, he had no idea, but knew in his weakened condition it could possibly take him weeks to reach it. Where did it all go wrong? he wondered, limping towards where he’d left his sister behind. Though he’d wanted to stay by her side, she’d demanded that he go and avenge her honor. She’d been defeated by a much weaker opponent, and couldn’t bear the shame. Though it was fair to say, that they’d both been bested by that damn pegasus.

That pony! he growled to himself. Though he’d most likely die from hunger out here in the wilds before reaching civilization, he fully intended seeking vengeance against him. Though not only for his dead sister, but for himself, and their mother as well, may the Maelstrom watch over her in the Summerlands. But these days, he didn’t know what use it was to pray to her for her protection. The days where Lady Zephyr protected her griffins from those foul slavers was long past.

Limping along the broken uneven terrain of the Highlands of Autumn, he wondered how things had ever come to this. Their people had once been respected by the other races for their great strength, and feared for their ferocity in battle. But now? Now ponies trespassed on griffin lands with impunity, and unicorn’s with their damned magic took whoever they wanted. And the worst thing was they couldn’t even retaliate. Lady Zephyr had forbade any griffin from laying waste to the pony settlements along their border and the numerous caravans that traveled through their domain.

Spying the meadow where his sister had fallen, and in all likelihood had perished. He lowered his head in shame for his failure to his kin, as he prepared himself to attend to her body. Though he hadn’t the strength to make a bonfire a top a peak as was the custom of their people, he’d make sure she was at least properly buried, before making the long trek to either civilization or his own lonely grave.

As he approached her, he wondered what she must think of him. Here he’d failed her last request, and now beaten and defeated, all he could do is bury her beneath the sod like a pony. Looking for the marker he’d left behind before pursuing after the pegasus, he sighed when he saw the familiar rocky outcropping near where she’d plummeted, marking the site like a gravestone. Drawing closer to where he’d left her, he was surprised to smell smoke lingering in the air.

Tilting his head back and forth to get a fix on its location, he sniffed the air gingerly, while slowly creeping towards where he’d left his sister behind. Crouched low to the ground and creeping through the tall grass of the veldt, he saw greyish smoke wafting up through the air. Narrowing his eyes in anger, he emitted a low growl. Somefeather was desecrating his sister’s remains, he knew it. Though wounded, he vowed that whoever it was would pay with their lives.

Moving silently through the mixture of green and yellow grasses providing his camouflage, he felt his tail twitching in anticipation of the kill. Sniffing the air, he caught a strange unfamiliar bitter scent. Skulking through the underbrush, he caught the intruder resting near a small fire. Though his eyes were normally sharp, due to the position of the sun setting to the west, and the light from the fire, it made identifying their identity problematic.

Creeping closer to them, he saw that it was a fellow griffin. Though most griffins were friendly enough with each other, it wasn’t unheard of for some of the more unsavory kind to resort to banditry. And a wounded and weakened griffin like his sister would have been easy prey. She was considered fairly beautiful, and had had numerous suitors. It didn’t take long for him to imagine the griffin bandit happening upon his sister, and having their way with her in her defenseless state.

Silently cursing himself for ever leaving her behind in such a state, and that damn pony slaver for leaving him in this deplorable condition, he prepared to ambush the bandit and make them sorry for ever laying a talon on his sister. Tensing his muscles and flexing his talons, he prepared to launch himself forward, knocking the interloper to the ground, to pin them. Then he’d beat the truth out of them.

Then he saw them move. They cocked their head in his direction, and he could see the flames of the small fire reflected in their soft blue eyes… Soft blue eyes, just like she once had. Then he caught the sight of their silvery feathers, and nearly wept when he realized who it was that was resting beside the fire.

“Sister!” he shouted from his hiding place, overjoyed that she’d somehow survived. Standing up, he rushed to her side, eager to tend to her wounds. Having forgotten his own wounds for the moment, he embraced her.

“Argh!” she screeched in pain, before smacking him with her talon. “Len, let me go, you featherbrain!”

Remembering her wounds, he gently let her go. “I’m sorry, Raine,” he said, offering her a sheepish smile in apology.

Smiling fondly at her sibling, Raine approached and rubbed up against him affectionately. “So, brother,” she said, laying back down in front of the fire. “Have you killed the pegasus and restored my honor?”

Remembering his failure back in the thicket, he lowered his head in shame. “Sister, I’m afraid I’ve failed you,” he said, turning away from her, unable to look her in the eye.

“How could this be?” she demanded, limping towards him. Grabbing his beak with her talons, she turned his head to face her. “Len, how could you lose to somefeather as weak as a pony?”

“The slaver scum, tricked me!” he protested, trying to deflect the blame for his failure.

Annoyed with her brother for having returned with empty talons, she took a good look at him and frowned when she saw his deplorable condition. Examining his many cuts and bruises, she shook her head disapprovingly. “Len, tell me, did the pegasus do this you?” she demanded.

Slowly shaking his head affirmatively, he said nothing, instead choosing to sit down by the fire. Noticing that his sister’s wounds were cleaned and dressed, and judging by the pungent bitter smell, had been treated with some kind of ointment. Surprised that she’d taken care of herself, he gave her a questioning look. “How did you tend to your wounds?” he asked, remembering how bad of shape she’d been in when he’d last seen her.

“Len, I awoke not more than an hour ago,” she said, picking up a bowl of greyish looking paste. Pouring some water on his cuts to clean them, she began applying a liberal amount of the ointment to his wounds. “Somefeather tended to me while I slept,” she explained, as he winced in pain from the stinging sensation from the astringent she was slathering on his many cuts and bruises. “They cleaned my wounds, applied this balm, and left a fire to keep me warm. They even left food and water for me.”

“So they didn’t rob you of your virtue?” he asked, remembering his earlier fears.

“No, Len,” she said, pulling on his pinfeathers slightly with her talons, eliciting a whimper of pain from her brother. Rubbing up against him once more, she hugged him briefly before returning to tending his wounds. “We owe that stranger a debt of gratitude, brother.”

“I wonder what kind of feather they are?” he wondered aloud, feeling relieved that nothing untoward had happened to the only family he had left.

“We should reward them for their nobility,” Raine said, finishing up her work. Looking at her brother, who was now covered in so much ointment that he seemed like nearly a different griffin, she released a small laugh.

“But, Raine,” Len said, helping himself to the small pile of berries and nuts their benefactor had left behind. “Our clan is poor, what could we possibly offer them?”

“Well, brother,” she said, giving the small white feather left behind by the good samaritan in her talon a thoughtful look. “Neither of us is promised to another clan. And while we are poor, we can offer them titles and more.”

“But what if they’re low born?” he objected, worried about diluting their bloodline.

“They’ve saved our clan, that makes them worthy,” Raine replied, giving her brother a steely eyed gaze. “I’d gladly marry a feather like that.”

“And if they’re a hen?” he asked, not particularly caring for the direction the conversation was heading.

“You’ll marry her, and be glad to do so!” she snapped, nipping at her elder brother with her beak.

“All right, Raine, all right,” he sighed, hoping that his sister’s savior was male.

Satisfied that her brother would no longer be disagreeable about the matter, she laid down beside him to rest. “Once we’ve restored our honor against the pony who besmirched Clan Gold Dawn,” she said with a deep yawn. “We can look for the feather who aided us, and properly reward them.”

“Rest well, sister,” Len said, placing a wing protectively over her.

“You too, dear brother,” Raine replied with a dreamy smile, while clutching the white feather to her breast as she drifted off to sleep.

Illuminated by the remnants of the slowly dying fire and resting on the tramped down grass of the Highlands of Autumn, was the small pot containing the remainder of the bitter smelling ointment. Hidden beneath the pot, and nearly obscured from view by the tall grass of the veldt, were a few forgotten white feathers and a single half-formed hoofprint.

Author's Note

Thank you gentlereader for reading chapter 1 of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, as always comments are appreciated.

Here we find the Slave King trapped and tormented in his greatest fear, enslaved by Celestia via marriage. I think it interesting that his actual marriage doesn't seem nearly as restrictive, as the one he was forced to endure in his dreams. I wonder what Celestia would think, if she knew the content of his dreams. Would she laugh at his predicament, or would she cry that he thinks so poorly of her? But perhaps the more important question is what would his wife do, should she discover the contents of his night terrors? Would she be flattered that her husband fought to stay loyal, or furious that he dreamt of other mares? And though they got off to a rocky start, it appears that the Slave King might just possess a sliver of affection towards his wife, either that, or he might only be humoring her.

And what of Bucky, we see his triumphant return to the big screen after being absent for most of the previous book. Apparently, he'd made good on his promise to see the world. It's just unfortunate that he hadn't taken Dawson's advice regarding griffins seriously, else he might have avoided the confrontation altogether. But though it was unlucky for him, it made for exciting reading. And in the end, isn't entertaining the readers all that really matters? Fortunately for the cocky young pegasus, he found a friend in Glitterwing, the young apprentice to the great and renown kirin sage, Zhange. Perhaps if he asks her nicely, the flutterpony might be wiling to read the heavens, and tell him what the future holds. And watch out, if you try to welch on her, young Glitterwing might have a word or three to say to you, either before or after she blasts you with her magic.

And what of our griffin siblings, Len and Raine? Such affectionate siblings are a rarity in this day and age, you better believe it, or Raine will sic her brother on you. But who could it be, that aided them in their time of need? Perhaps we might never know, at least I'm sure Len hopes so. But whoever it is, I'm sure Raine will pursue the owner of the white feather to offer her thanks, and talon in matrimony. Hopefully when they finally meet, they'll see eye to eye on the matter, because she doesn't strike me as the kind of girl to take no for an answer.

Find out the answers to these questions and more, in the next exciting chapter of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, coming soon to computer near you!

Once again, gentlereader, thank you for reading and all your kind words and support. You make writing worthwhile. Until next time!

Chapter 3: Five Hearts, One That Hurts, One That Weeps, One That Longs, One That Fears, and One That Hates

The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter

A Story by TalonMach5

Chapter 3: Five Hearts, One That Hurts, One That Weeps, One That Longs, One That Fears, and One That Hates

He tightly gripped the armrests of his stone throne. Though he was still weak from the foul curse that had beset him, he felt his all familiar rage coursing through his veins. He wanted to rise up and hunt down the vermin that thought to wrong him inside his own home. The green flames burning in his eyes flared from beneath his arcanum crown, as he tapped into his power to punish those who’d sought to harm him.

But before he could send his fury through the earthen ley lines in retribution, he felt her using her magic on his left hand. With her magic, she raised and placed his hand lightly against her muzzle. Looking into her affectionate teal eyes, he found his fury somewhat lessened, as she placed her hoof against his hand. He closed his eyes trying to get away from her gentle gaze, but her accursed magic seemed to have affected him. He found himself desperately wanting to crush his enemies with all the fury of the Earth, but found to his chagrin that he couldn’t

Exhaling in frustration, he looked at her briefly, before returning his attention to Melody and the others. “So you’re absolutely sure it was a changeling then?” he rumbled, thrumming the metal fingers of his right hand methodically.

“Yes, king da…” she said, before catching a venomous look from her sister Harmony. “I mean, yes, Slave King.”

“Can you confirm this?” he said to the others, looking Chrysalis squarely in the eye.

“Absolutely,” Chrysalis the changeling turned diamond dog said, pleased that the one that had harmed her so would finally get what was coming to them.

“As can I, Slave King,” Dame Squall, the Relentless said, giving him a curt bow. Though she found him distasteful, the words that Scourge, the Doomhound had spoken to her earlier, still echoed in her heart, and made her resolve to find some common ground with his servants. “This changeling was the same as the one who interfered during Shadow Knight Sombra’s and Sir Hurricane’s contest, as well as the identity of the ghast that attacked Aria.”

The Slave King looked down at the light green seapony, and stroked his greying beard thoughtfully. Beneath her purple flowing locks, were a pair of vibrant green eyes that shone with the same spirit of justice that he’d seen once before so long ago. One had been an elderly minotaur knight, and the other his loyal seapony companion. So great had been their bond, that not even his great power had managed to break them. Looking thoughtfully at his arcanum arm for a moment, he returned his gaze to her.

“Whether by choice or chance, this is twice you’ve served me, chevaleresse,” he said, giving the trident she had strapped to her back a thoughtful look. “You may keep the weapon with my blessing. It once belonged to another knight of the Lawgiver that aided me in my time of need. Perhaps, it might serve me once more.”

Dame Squall nodded respectfully to him. “As long as it allows me to protect the weak and punish the wicked,” she said, pondering the weapon’s history. “I’ll gladly accept it.”

Looking into his empty cup, he looked towards the reindeer, Gunhilde. “I thirst, cupbearer,” he said, holding out his cup for her to fill.

“Of course, Slave King,” she said, levitating a bottle of the Draught of Renewal with her magic. Slowly filling his cup halfway, she waited for him to drain it, so she could fill it once more.

Looking thoughtfully into the iridescent emerald liquid, he looked at her, and offered her a small smile. “I missed you this morning, Gunhilde,” he said, draining his goblet dry. “Some of the others thought you had betrayed me. I’m pleased that wasn’t the case.”

Looking at her flank, she saw the brand that linked him and her to each other. She could feel his divinity and power ebb and flow against it, as she contemplated her fate as his slave. Though she hated being his slave, she found she didn’t hate him. With this new found knowledge, she bowed respectfully to the one she was being forced to serve.

“And what would be the point in running away, master,” she said, accepting her lot for now. “As long as I bear your mark, there’s no escaping.”

“That’s true, Gunhilde,” he replied, giving his wife a thoughtful look, as he examined his own brands that now bore her cutie mark. What had once been an act of silent defiance against her and her sister, had now become his new mark of ownership. Without her magic supporting him, he was as helpless as a newborn babe. Truly, without her aid, he would’ve died to the curse that had struck him down. “You and the others, are excused for now.”

“Oh, before I forget, Slave King,” Melody said, recalling the words the serpent had told her.

“Yes, what is it, Melody,” he asked, curious to discover what she wished to tell him.

“It’s about Jormungandr,” she said, frowning slightly when she unsuccessfully tried remembering the warning he’d offered her.

"What of the Winding One?” he said, while his throne room became deathly silent.

When she heard that Jormungandr had made himself known, and to a mortal no less, Princess Luna wondered what great new machination he was plotting. It was no secret that whenever his name was evoked, plots and schemes were sure to follow. Why the last time he’d involved himself in the affairs of gods and ponies, he’d successfully managed to entangle everypony in a plot to save the Slave King from himself, and had blessed Equestria greatly. In fact, the Slave King’s ascension to godhood was almost singlehoofedly secured by his scheming.

“Daughter, thou hast seen the Winding One with thine own eyes?” she worriedly asked, fearful that some new plot was conspiring against her and her husband.

When Harmony heard Princess Luna address Melody as daughter, she furrowed her brow disapprovingly. Didn’t she know the Slave King had no children? Speaking to his servants with such familiarity would only breed resentment in the long run. “With respect, Princess Luna,” she said as diplomatically as possible. “Our mother is Lady Suzaku.”

“We know this, daughter,” Princess Luna replied, giving the magister a knowing look. “But art we not wed to thy father? We pledged to accept all his children as our own.”

“But, Princess Luna…” she objected, before being silenced by a look from the Slave King.

“Wife,” he rumbled, suggesting he didn’t much care for the direction the conversation was taking. “I believe we’re being sidetracked from the more important issue, that of Jormungandr.”

Laying back her ears, she bowed to him. Though she was sure the root of his cold heart lay in the rejection of his children, she yielded to him for now. There would time enough later to make him see things her way. After all, she was determined that their foals wouldn’t suffer the same fate as their siblings had.

“As you wish, husband,” she submissively said. Looking towards Melody, she was delighted when she saw that she seemed amicable enough to accepting her as kin.

“So, Melody,” the Slave King said, leaning slightly forward in his throne. “Tell me what tidings does the Winding One offer the Earth?”

Why had he chosen until now to remain hidden? he wondered to himself. Surely amongst the Pantheon in its entirety, none owed him more than himself. Without his intervention, he would’ve suffered imprisonment in stone, or worse. If the timetable had been accelerated, surely he would’ve sought him out. But no, he’d not even seen fit to send his coterie of followers to speak with him.

Thinking back to his wedding, unless he was paranoid, he determined that his marriage to Luna must have been a part of his plan all along. And that’s why he’d avoided him for so long. But now that he was shackled to her, why not speak with him directly? The sooner he was made aware of the plan, the sooner he could extricate himself from the machinations of the game, and thus be able to resume his vital work.

“Slave King,” Melody said, looking her father in the eye. “Jormungandr sends his apologies for not being there when you needed his aid.”

“That’s it? An apology?” he said, slightly annoyed Jormungandr hadn’t bothered to do so in person.

“No, there’s more, Slave King,” Harmony said, shaking her head at her sister. “Go on Melody, tell him about the Elements.”

“Dost thou mean the Elements of Harmony?” Princess Luna asked, surprised that any mortal was aware of their existence.

“Yes, moth… I mean, Princess Luna,” she said, remembering to practice proper court etiquette.

“Wife, what are the Elements of Harmony?” the Slave King asked, wondering what they had to do with him.

“The Elements of Harmony, are how we first created the world,” she explained, creating a magical illusion of six brilliantly colored gems floating before them. “In the first Age of Ponies, our sister and we, together with the Prime Elements, created all Equestria from the elemental void of chaos.”

“Wife, I take it that was a bit before my time” the Slave King said with a wry grin.

“Verily, husband,” she said, returning his smile with one of her own. “For a time there wast harmony amongst us all, until the destroyer came, and with him disharmony and war.”

“Oh, you must mean Tiroc, right?” Melody said, before receiving scathing looks from Harmony and the others.

“Melody, how could you?” Harmony accused, chastising her sister for saying his name aloud.

“Oh, what’s the big deal?” she replied, with a cheeky grin. “He’s safely tucked away in the Pit right?”

“Fie, Melody, for shame,” Princess Luna said, scolding her for speaking the destroyer’s hateful name aloud. “The unmentionable one, is known thus for good reason. Remember this well, to speak one’s name, empowers them.”

“As interesting as all this is,” the Slave King said, annoyed by these distractions. “What do the Elements of Harmony and the unmentionable one have to do with us?”

“The changeling tried stealing them from you,” Melody said, wishing she’d managed to save at least one of them from the current that had swept them away. “I’m sorry I failed you.”

“Husband, thou heldst the Elements within thy grasp, and never told us of such?” Princess Luna accused him, wondering what else he had hidden from the rest of the Pantheon. “We believed them lost forever.”

Curious as to how he could come to possess such power unknown, he looked to his harper questioningly. “Since when have I ever possessed such a thing, Melody?” he asked, wondering what else the Winding One had told her.

“They were your tears, king daddy,” Melody said, feeling guilty that she’d failed to save even one. “They were lost, when they fell into the current and washed away.”

“My tears…” he murmured, remembering how Celestia had comforted him in his time of sorrow.

He’d had no more tears left to shed, and yet in that moment as he lay lost in the shadows of despair, her light chased away the darkness covering his heart and soul. In that moment of healing, the love he’d held for the ones he’d lost so long ago, escaped as tears, crystallizing into six cloudy gems. Though initially he’d wondered what value they might’ve held, he’d determined they held no innate magic of their own. He’d only bothering holding onto them for their value as mementos, a reminder to himself that even in the darkness there’s still a hope for redemption.

“So the changelings think to steal my treasures, and slay my servants,” he said, feeling his earlier rage threatening to escape. “After I spared them from my wrath for their queen’s transgression, and granted them a refuge in my domain?”

“No, Slave King,” Chrysalis said, worried for her hive’s safety. “We would never… I mean what profit would the changeling race gain by earning your enmity?”

“Is that so, Chrysalis?” he said, glowering at her. “Very well, the changeling queen shall speak on behalf of her race. If she can convince me that this was the work of a rogue element, I shall spare them. If not, they shall share the Diamond Vale’s fate.”

Once, he might have slain her and the rest of her wretched race for such acts, but he was that man no longer. To punish all for the crimes of a few wasn’t just and wasn’t right. Though the years had tempered him, the demands of justice still had to be attended to. The scales had been imbalanced, and they needed to be righted.

Princess Luna looked at husband approvingly, she’d been worried at first that he would’ve smote half their domain in anger, when he first received the terrible news. But he’d shown such restraint today, it made her heart swell with affection for him. She could tell now, he was nothing like the arrogant vengeful monster of his youth. She simply needed to ensure he stayed on the path to harmony, and all would eventually be made right.

Still serving your sister’s whims I see, princess, the always present and ever insidious voice teased, chuckling at her surprise.

What… What dost thou want, thou treacherous beast? she demanded, furious that the voice saw fit to return once more, to mock and deride her.

Is that anyway to thank me, Luna? After all, without me, you wouldn’t have friend to call your own in all Equestria, the voice said, feigning hurt at her insult.

Why cans’t thou leavest us alone, she implored, fearful that the voice might tempt her into darker paths once more. Cans’t thou see, we art happy now? Our husband warms to us, and shall soon return our selfsame feelings of love and affection.

Luna, you are a foal if you think the Slave King does anything more than tolerate your presence, the voice said, allowing the venom of its cruel words to burrow deep into her psyche.

Thou art a liar! she roared, refusing to believe anything further that the voice said. He truly loves us. We know it. Our love is true, and none of thy wicked lies cans’t corrupt its purity.

Oh, I’m sure it is, little princess, the voice mocked, its voice dripping with sarcasm. But does your husband know that?

Our husband… she murmured, looking down at the hand that should be wrapped around her hoof.

Gently prodding his hand with her hoof, she waited with baited breath to see if he would hold it of his own accord. Feeling her hoof tapping against him, the Slave King looked at her questioningly, before placing his hands in his lap.

See, Luna, the voice derided. He doesn’t care for you at all. I’m sure if he was married to Celestia instead, he would be more than willing to hold her hooves. In fact, they’d probably still be in bed together, having wild…

Silence, fiend! Luna cried out, as the graphic images depicting her husband and sister together made her profusely blush from the passions the voice had managed to elicit from her, and felt furious that the Slave King had failed to hold her hoof when she’d clearly desired him to. Surely as her husband, he could do this one small thing for her, without having to be told.

“Husband,” she whined, interrupting the letter the Slave King was dictating to Harmony.

“What is it, wife?” he asked, rolling his eyes at her.

Looking into her turquoise eyes, he saw a glimmer of hope and despair reflected back at him. Remembering how she’d been prodding his hand with her hoof, he knew what she desired. Centuries ago, both Lady Zephyr and Lady Suzaku had pined for his attention in a similar manner. Thankful to her for stopping him from blindly lashing out in anger, and knowing he’d know no peace until he’d acquiesced, he took hold of her hoof, and squeezed it gently.

When she felt his strong hand wrap around her hoof, enveloping it with his warmth, she silently exalted with joy. She was right after all! He did love her, and all the lies and vicious rumors the voice might utter, would never change that.

Looking into his burning eyes, she smiled, grateful that he’d reaffirmed her faith in their love. “Husband,” she said, worried for his health. “Art thou fatigued? Dost thou wish to retire, or see to thy other tasks?”

He thought for a moment, before shaking his head slightly. True, he was feeling a bit fatigued, but so far Luna’s magic had sustained him well enough. Resting for a spell did seem tempting. However, until he had resolved the changeling problem to his satisfaction, he couldn’t afford to.

“Wife, thank you, but no,” he said, looking to Harmony.

“Did you wish to add anything else to the summons, Slave King?” Harmony asked, holding her quill at the ready.

“How about, Your presence is requested, courtesy of one of your changelings,” he rumbled, liking how polite, yet ominous the wording made the summons seem. “We look forward to discussing this matter with you in person – The Slave King, Lord of Earth.”

“Alright, Slave King,” Harmony said, rolling up the scroll, pouring wax on it, and pressing her seal to the parchment. “I’ll have it sent by royal courier.”

“Good, Harmony,” he said, giving her an appreciative nod. Turning towards Luna, he stroked her fetlock with his finger. “Wife, it appears we’ll be entertaining royalty.”

“Husband, why dids’t thy vassal fail to come bearing gifts and glad tidings for our wedding?” she inquired, wondering why any would dare snub a prime element, let alone herself.

Looking towards Chrysalis, who was standing beside her keeper, Gunhilde, he gently squoze her hoof once more. “Queen Ambrosia knows better than to enter my domain unbidden, as do most of her children,” he said, slumping back into his throne, as he remembered what the queen had done to earn his animosity.

“Share with us thy pain, husband,” Luna implored, when she felt the frigid chill that seemed to have overtaken him.

Releasing a greater portion of her magic into him, in the hopes of bolstering his strength, she laid her head on his shoulder. The Slave King, felt the warmth of her breath on his ear, and offered her a sidewise glance.

“Wife,” he said, as the weight of the bitter memory faded into oblivion. “One day I might share my pain with you, but today is not that day.”

Closing her eyes in sorrow, because the stallion she loved with all her might, still refused to open his heart to her. Nuzzling him affectionately, she gently kissed his cheek, and withdrew to her own throne. “We understand, husband,” she said, wishing she possessed the key that bound his heart from hers. “We look forward to the day thou art willing to share thyself with us.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” he muttered under his breath, awaiting for a response from the changeling queen.

All the while, Melody plucked a gentle yet sad tune on her lute. Knowing she was supposed to say something more, yet couldn’t quite remember exactly what it was that she was supposed to say.

*****

She looked towards where her master was resting, before returning to her silent vigil. She still couldn’t believe they’d been tasked with caring for Nightmare of all feathers. Nightmare, the first creation. Nightmare, the shadow stalker. Nightmare, the warden of the Diamond Vale ruins. Nightmare, the terror that even death itself feared. Though it had been over a day, she hadn’t moved a muscle, and was still soundly asleep.

Of all of the Slave King’s servants, Nightmare was probably her least favorite to deal with. Being mercurial, temperamental, and constantly insubordinate, even on her good days, she was always difficult to work with. Narrowing her golden eyes, she looked down at the black shape sleeping peacefully on her master’s bed disapprovingly, and frowned. This monster had the gall to call her beloved master a traitor.

But in reality the only traitor here, was the one they each served. He was a traitor to those who would call him family and friend. Had he accepted her as his, she would’ve have gladly fought for him until the ends of the earth if need be. But instead of affection, all he’d ever offered her was cold indifference. And even Master Scourge, his oldest and most loyal of servants, he’d cast aside without a second thought.

Running her fingers through her blood red plumage, she studied her hands. Ten. That’s how many fingers she possessed, five on each hand, just like his. She wondered when he was all alone, did thoughts of her sisters and she ever fill his mind. He knew he cared somewhat for her sisters. She’d seen him spend hours listening to Melody playing her lute, as he sat on his throne. And it was no secret Harmony was his favorite member of the court, he’d even seen fit to offer her praises for the work she’d done for him over the years. But not once, in all the years she’d ever served him, had he ever praised her for anything.

And now with the appearance of his son, Dawson, the griffin-half, he had the perfect opportunity to get rid of both Master Scourge and herself. Sure the ‘Order of the Shadow’s’ morale might suffer for a time, but judging by how well her griffin-half, half-brother had fought, he’d win over the old timers in short order. She thought back to all the awards and honors she’d won, just hoping that he’d offer her some small sliver of praise. But he never had. She knew that no matter how well she fought, how many victories she gave him, he’d never see her as anything more than an expendable asset.

Looking at their shared quarters, the feathered folk tried looking for something, anything that bound her to this place, to her father, but found nothing. She could melt away into the shadows, and never be missed. She supposed this day had been long coming. It was time to leave her father’s employ and domain behind her. Knowing that her master would try dissuading her from leaving, she decided to leave before he woke up.

But where could she possibly go? There was always the Summer Palace in the Domain of Fire, but somehow she suspected her mother wouldn’t approve of her leaving. Mother had always encouraged the feathered folk to seek out their father in the South. She wasn’t quite sure why, perhaps to protect them from Lord Ouroboros’s servants. But she’d always suspected it was her way to become closer to the Slave King. With so many of them in the South, she supposed he couldn’t ignore that they had once been close.

Though her mother was always warm and loving, she suspected that she’d find the lifestyle in the Summer Palace stifling and boring. She was a feather of action, she needed more than endless parties and gossip. And though the Domain of Fire was the land of her birth, the Fire Tyrant had long ago made clear his disgust with the beastfolk tribes. She was sure she’d find no welcome amongst his kin.

But if there was no place for her in the East, perhaps the North might provide her refuge. Though she didn’t particularly mind ponies, she wasn’t quite sure they wouldn’t mind her. As a result of their policy of slavery, the South had few friends amongst the other domains. And even if the ponies at large weren’t outright hostile towards her, she was sure that every mare and stallion who had ever lost somefeather to slavery might decide on getting a little payback.

And that was to say nothing of the griffins, though Dawson and Lady Zephyr had been cordial enough towards her. That sentiment wasn’t exactly shared by everyfeather else in their domain. It was no secret that many griffins outright hated the Slave King, and by extension anyfeather that had ever had anything to do with him. She was sure once word got around that not only was she from the South, but had also been second only to Master Scourge, she’d know no peace, as everyfeather who had ever possessed a grievance against the Slave King would surely come to her doorstep to collect.

Then if all other paths were barred to her, perhaps she might find gainful employment amongst the seaponies in the West. She knew from personal experience, that Lord Triton’s children appreciated martial skill, and she had that in droves. However, they also despised the Slave King and all his mudslinger servants, for what they considered his disdain for Lord Triton’s laws. So even though she was skilled, most likely nofeather would trust her enough to offer her a chance to prove herself.

Deciding she had no other alternative, she decided she’d head towards the Western Sea, offering her services as a sell sword for hire to any traveling merchants. And if nofeather would hire her, then she’d book passage on a ship sailing to the Zebrakan, and make her living there. Surely in the wilds of that place, she could make her mark.

Having made her decision, she looked down at the sleeping form of her master, and lowered her head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be patient, Master Scourge,” she whispered, wishing that somehow she could take him with her, away from her father and this hateful place.

Preparing to depart the palace for the last time, she grabbed her sheathed arcanum long knife, and secured it to her belt. Drawing the knife from its sheath, she studied its black, dull surface. Placing it back inside its sheath, she grabbed her satchel, and looking inside, pulled out a large golden coin, her boon for winning the archery contest last week. She saw her father’s face engraved on the coin looking up at her, staring at her with those same cold uncaring eyes.

She was about to leave the coin on her dresser, when she saw her hand. It had five fingers, just like his. She felt something wet against her cheek, touching a finger to her face, she pulled back and saw it was her tears. Placing the coin on the dresser, she grabbed her cloak, gave her beloved master one last look, and left her room in tears. Walking through the dimly lit corridors of the palace, she drew her hood over her face to hide her reddened eyes and the tear stained feathers on her face from view.

She thought about Melody and Harmony, and how much she’d miss them both. Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, she walked through the darkened corridor to reach her destination, the exit to the gardens. Stepping out of the shadows, she flinched as sunlight from the broken dome above her, hit her eyes. Once they had adjusted to the brightness, she walked into the garden. Passing one of the statues of her father, she stopped to look at it.

He was depicted sitting on his throne, with an outstretched arm and stern demeanor. She saw his hand, and counter the number of fingers. Five, just like hers. Gingerly reaching out to touch it, she rested her hand against the statue’s much larger one, and felt the cool unyielding stone beneath her palm. Looking into the statue’s lifeless eyes, she felt years of anger, longing, and sorrow welling up inside her.

“I hate you,” she whispered, finally voicing the feelings she’d kept bottled up inside her for so long.

When the statue’s stony visage didn’t respond, she lowered her head, and buried her face in her hands, hoping to hide her tears from the world. Dropping to her knees, she hugged its legs, and wept. She remembered as a child, how she longed to meet her father, to be with him, to be held by him.

“Why… Why don’t you love me, father?” she sobbed, gripping the statue as hard as she could, hoping that maybe somehow it might respond to her heartfelt pleas.

“Remember, little pup, all parents love their children,” she heard somefeather say from behind her.

“Master Scourge?” she said in surprise. Standing up to greet her master, she hastily wiped her eyes on her sleeves, trying her best to hide any evidence of her tears.

“Little pup,” he said, approaching her. “Where are you going?”

“Master, I… um,” she stammered, tripping over her words, and feeling totally flustered and incredibly vulnerable.

“It’s alright,” he said, walking forward and standing beside her trembling frame.

Feeling guilty for nearly leaving him without saying goodbye, she knelt down and embraced his arcanum armor. “Oh, master,” she cried out, while her heart broke for the father who had rejected her.

“Always remember, little pup, I love you,” he said, returning her embrace.

Sniffing several times and wiping her puffy eyes with her tunic’s sleeves, she looked up at the statue of the Slave King. “Master Scourge,” she said, refusing to look away from the statue. “I’m leaving.”

“I know, Aria,” he sadly said, leaning his head against her. Placing a large gold coin into her hand, he closed her fingers around it. “But before you left, I wanted to make sure you didn’t leave anything behind.”

“Oh,” she said, seeing the familiar coin once more, wishing to cast it away from her as far as possible.

Seeing her uncertainty and internal conflict, he reached out with his armored paw, and moved her hand to her satchel. “Take the boon with you,” he instructed, looking her in the eye. “To remember me… us by.”

“Alright, Master Scourge,” she promised, slipping it inside her satchel.

Part of her wanted to beg him to come with her, but she knew in her heart that he would remain by her father until the end. Such loyalty, she bitterly thought, giving the statue of the Slave King one last dour look. He doesn’t deserve it. Extending her wings, she prepared to leave the palace behind. She involuntarily trembled, brushing a few stray red feathers out of her eyes, as she prepared to say goodbye to the only home she’d known since she was a child.

Seeing her hesitancy, Scourge stood beside his disciple. “Aria,” he said, looking up at her with his ethereal blue eyes. “I know wherever you go, whatever you do, you’ll bring great honor and distinction to your name.”

“I promise you, master, you’ll never have cause for shame by my hand,” she said, grasping his arcanum armor with her hand. “I’ll always remember your teachings.”

“Little pup,” he said, making the longing and regret in his voice echo in her heart. “If I was ever blessed to have a daughter, I’d want her to be you.”

“I love you, Master Scourge,” she said embracing his cold iron armor as tightly as she could manage.

“I love you too, Aria,” he said, grasping her with his metal shod paws, cursing the fact that he couldn’t hold her with his own flesh and bones. “Good luck to you, little pup, and remember you’ll always be welcome in the South.”

Buoyed by the love he held for her, she forgot all her tears, and leapt into the air, seeking her destiny in the West. Offering her master one last wave goodbye, she headed towards the Western Sea with the sun at her back.

Catching a western blowing headwind, she smiled, knowing that even though the Slave King didn’t love her, her father did.

*****

She awoke, finding herself all alone in a strange bed. Though normally her powerful muscles surged with strength, right now she found herself feeling weak and lethargic. In fact, she barely possessed the strength to move her tail. Tilting her head to get a better view of her surroundings, she saw another bed on the other side of the room. Near the pillow that lay on the haphazardly strewn about sheets and blanket, was a single red feather. Ah, so she was in the whelp and traitor’s personal quarters.

Though she held no more animosity towards her than any other, if not for her master’s orders, she would have rent the whelp to pieces. Because she was the proof of her master’s infidelity, she hated the whelp and her sisters on principal. Long ago when she’d first met the whelp, she’d been no more than a bite size morsel. When her master had first introduced the whelp to her, she’d thought he was offering her a meal. But much to her disappointment, she’d been informed that the whelp was not to be harmed in any way, and was instead to be treated as his honored guest.

Though her master made it clear she was no relation of his, she knew better. The whelp carried the scent of one of his whore mistresses on her, the one with feathers she thought, as well as his own. The whelp was definitely his offspring, but humored him for his willingness to at least try keeping up the appearance he was still being faithful to her. After all, it wasn’t his fault that he was nothing more than a weak male, completely unable to withstand the feminine magic of his whore mistresses.

Stretching out as well as she could, she yawned and dragged her claws against the room’s stone wall. She was rewarded with a high pitched squeal as her claws scratched the stone, leaving deep gashes in their wake. Taking a deep breath, she sneered when she caught the scent of arcanum and ectoplasm.

How dare he! she seethed, remembering well his previous protests against servicing her lust. Taking liberties with me as I sleep, and unable to defend myself.

Of course, she knew that was impossible, due to his incorporeal existence as a disembodied spirit. But the lie offered more comfort then the truth, that once again, her master was being unfaithful to her with that whore of a pony. The fact that he’d been married by the authority of the Pantheon didn’t matter to her. As far as she was concerned, the pony whore was nothing more than an interloper, who deserved nothing less than scorn for trying to steal her master away from her.

Already, she sought out his bed to corrupt him with her whiles, and here she was weak and unable to protect him when he needed her the most. Whining at the injustice of it all, she stopped when she heard someone enter the room.

Traitor, she growled, not even bothering to check if it was Scourge or not.

“Lady Nightmare,” the doomhound said, approaching her. “I hope you found my bed to your liking.”

It smells like rust and treason, she angrily spat, furious that she’d been forced to share the bed of a traitor.

“My apologies, Nightmare,” Scourge said, lowering his head in contrition. “It’s the best I could offer at such short notice.”

Where’s the whelp, that might as well be your shadow, doomhound? she asked, not particularly caring in the least where she was, but felt anyone else’s company would be preferable to that of the traitor’s.

“She’s gone,” he said, unwilling to elaborate any further.

I see that even your shadow couldn’t stand the shame of your treason, Nightmare said, delighting in the pain her words were causing him.

For a moment, she saw a flash of rage reflected in his eyes, she’d not seen since he’d still possessed flesh. Back then, like her, he, along with their master, were beings of unparalleled rage and fury. But that all changed when he’d perished in the Dragon’s Necropolis, Utz’ Slith Slaan, and returned from the land of the dead. A change had overcome both he and their master, making them both weak and vulnerable. Didn’t they know that her rage and hate made her powerful and strong? But now their master was a hairbreadth from the shadow lands, and the traitor wasn’t much better.

Traitor, she commanded, offering an air of authority that suggested terrible things would happen if her whims weren’t met. I desire to be at the Slave King’s side. Carry me to him.

“I’m afraid not, Nightmare,” Scourge replied, towering over her prone form. “The Slave King commanded me to tend to you, and tend you I shall.”

Baring her teeth at the traitor, she whined in frustration when he refused to do as she demanded. But unable to do little more than voice her displeasure, she let out a sigh. It was going to be a long day.

*****

She was flying to that dark and terrible place as swiftly as she could. Normally, if someone ever dared make such demands of her, she’d have slain the messenger, and sent her subjects to harass the foal that thought to command her. But this was a summons from the Slave King, and it was best not to provoke his ire. It wasn’t like he was either Princess Celestia or Lord Triton. With them, they were predictable, manageable. But the Lord of Earth, he was another matter altogether.

Centuries ago she’d learned that lesson the hard way. When news of Lord Darkpaw’s passing had reached her ears, she thought it a cause of great rejoicing. Very rarely were there ever openings on the Pantheon, so this was an opportunity of an age. Finally, she could move to expand her holdings and influence. Perhaps, she might even be able to convince them to restore her to her former place amongst their number.

Long ago, during the first Age of Ponies, she’d been greedy, and her ambition had exceeded her grasp. As a result, she’d been stripped of her divinity, and cast into the wastes to eke out a living. Though she’d hadn’t expected to be raised to the position of Lady of Earth, she thought that with one of their number being promoted, that the resulting vacancy might be extended to her. After all, it’s not as if they’d offer the position to a mortal, or dare she say it, the unmentionable one.

But fate had pulled a cruel trick on her, and instead of her, a mortal had ascended and claimed Darkpaw’s seat of power. Though it wasn’t all a loss, the resulting chaos from the Slave King’s rise to power, had allowed her changelings to infiltrate the other domains in greater numbers. All she had to do was be patient, and wait for an opportunity to present itself.

And then an opportunity fell into her lap. Originally she’d thought to enthrall the Slave King as her lover, but Lady Suzaku and Lady Zephyr’s oft ill repeated attempts had all ended in failure. She’d nearly decided to scrap her plans for him, when she discovered something, the Slave King’s perpetual attempts at Neighcromancy. At first, she paid it no mind. After all he was once mortal, and didn’t possess good enough sense to leave the forbidden arts alone. But then she discovered what he sought after in the Land of the Dead, the soul of a unicorn filly.

She wanted to laugh when she’d discovered his secret. Originally, she’d thought he was merely a merciless, black hearted monster. But instead, he was in mourning for her. Didn’t the fool know, that death was the fate of all living things? But regardless of whether he knew not, or cared not, it didn’t matter. With this knowledge she could easily bend him to her will and control him. She simply needed to wait for the right moment.

And then the moment came. The Slave King was summoning the unicorn’s soul from the portal he’d created, and was attempting to fashion a body for it from the earth at his feet. She knew then that his attempt at resurrecting her was doomed to failure, but his ignorance of things would play right into her hoof. All she needed to do was time things just right, and he would be hers.

Waiting for the right moment, she watched from the shadows, as the clay body he’d made broke apart when the soul refused to merge with it. Then she saw him howl in despair, as the golden spirit returned from whence it came. And then when the Slave King was weak and vulnerable, she searched him for that which he so desperately sought, and assumed its form. And just as she’d suspected, he bought it, hook, line, and sinker.

“Daddy?” she’d called out to him, mimicking the foal’s voice perfectly.

Lifting his head up, he stared at her in disbelief with his sputtering fiery green eyes. When he saw her, he slowly reached out with his hand, trying to convince himself of the reality of what he was seeing before him.

“Little Bleu…” he murmured, trembling as he moved forth his hand to touch her.

His emotions then, had been so raw and delicious. As she fed on them, she felt herself surging with power. Needing more, she approached him, and reached out to him with her tiny hooves. She nearly panicked as he snatched her and held her tightly to his breast. She was nearly drunk now, with the power that his emotions offered her. She’d only needed a little more, and she would’ve been able to cement her hold over him. But then disaster struck, the golden spirit had returned through the portal, and landed between them.

What happened next, she’d never forget to the end of her days. She saw in his burning green eyes, a rage that not even the unmentionable one had ever managed to express. Pushing her away from him, he released another howl, this time it was decidedly angrier. It resounded with such a fury, that it shook the very foundations of the Earth. It was then, that she regretted her mistake. The entire room burst into green flames, as he rose to his full height, and pointed a finger accusingly at her.

“Why have you done this?” he’d seethed, filling her heart with dread.

“I hungered,” is all she said, shrinking back from his burning eyes and terrible visage.

For a moment she’d thought he was going to end her, but then he looked towards the golden spirit floating beside him, and looked away.

“Go,” he’d commanded in a voice void of any emotion, pointing a finger towards the exit.

Not needing to be told twice, she galloped as hard as her hooves would allow, and left him and that terrible place behind her.

It wasn’t until later that she’d realized just how lucky she’d been. Not a day had passed before the casualty reports came flooding in. Changelings by the thousands, many wounded, had flooded back to the hive in a panic. The reports she’d received were mostly the same. The Slave King had declared a purge, and had devoted the entirety of his enormous assets to ridding his domain of her influence.

In the end, when her people’s backs were to the wall, and he had it within his power to snuff their race out. He recalled his armies, and put a stop to the indiscriminate slaughter of her people. It was then he’d sent her his servant, the Arch Duke, Fifi le Yipyap, to discuss the terms of their unconditional surrender.

She thanked creation, that his demands had been relatively simple. As long as she, and all her subjects stayed within their own territory, he’d not pursue them any further. Any changelings they caught within his Domain, would be dealt with appropriately. Of course, she’d broken the terms of the treaty almost immediately, necessity required they do so. They had to feed after all, and the wastelands offered them little in the way of nourishment.

But somehow, she believed he knew they were breaking the treaty almost daily. But as long as they played lip service to it, and their trespasses weren’t too egregious, the Slave King seemed content enough allowing things return to how they once were. In fact, over the last four centuries, beyond the odd changeling being killed due to their own stupidity, he’d been a rather benign overlord towards her people.

Which made this summons she’d received from him all the more troubling, had someone actually been foolish enough to assault the Slave King within his own palace? The thefts it mentioned were bad enough, but actually trying to kill members of his inner circle was beyond the pale. Killing anyone, beyond self-defense, was wasteful and foolish. Not only did it destroy an irreplaceable food source, it brought unwanted attention to the hive. Changelings, like shadows, couldn’t survive when the light touched them.

She growled in annoyance, as the sun overhead warmed her dark carapace. Normally she’d never dream of flying out in the open like this, but with the Slave King as angry as he might be, she didn’t want to take any chances offending him any further. Passing over the great metal city of Neo Vale, she saw tens of thousands of its citizens milling about its wide streets and avenues, going about their business. The city had always been a source of great nourishment for her subjects, and she was determined to keep it that way.

It was true they collected much love from the slaves freed from time to time. However, the great contributions of the city to the hive, couldn’t be discounted. Hundreds of her fellow changelings lived there, collecting emotional energy to bring back to the hive. And if they lost access to it, the loss of such an invaluable food source in this otherwise harsh land would cause irreparable harm to the hive.

Leaving Neo Vale behind her, she saw her destination in the distance. Though not much to look at, the broken lava dome held both terror and wealth without measure. Beyond the Slave King of course, the ruins of the Diamond Vale held ten thousand horrors, each wandering the streets waiting to devour the unwitting without remorse or pity. But beyond the undead dangers of the city, treasures lurked in every corner. In fact, the city was so wealthy, she’d tapped the unclaimed treasures of the dead city as a revenue stream for nearly a century. Every fortnight, her changeling infiltrators braved the city looking for valuables, which she then used to finance her other operations.

Of course, the city would eventually run dry, but until then she’d gladly loot it. After all, if the Slave King didn’t care about the vast riches to be had there, why shouldn’t someone more enterprising be able to enjoy the wealth? Spying the broken doors of the city, she landed in front of great stone gate, pulled the waiting platinum chain, and waited to be admitted inside.

As the great bells pealed, alerting the Slave King to her presence, she nervously pawed at the dry broken earth beneath her hooves. Shaking her silken amber mane, she exhaled, as she licked her dry lips. She hoped that the one he sent to usher her inside, wouldn’t be her. Nightmare, even her name sent chills through her soft velveteen covered chitin.

“He’s been expecting you, Queen Ambrosia,” a familiar voice said.

Stepping out of the shadows of the broken city, she saw a diamond dog approach her. What she saw, nearly made her forget all her previous fears, as she burst into raucous laughter. It was none other than the arch duke. But he wasn’t the cause of her amusement, well he was… but rather it was how he looked that tickled her funny bone. He was gaily dressed in satin and lace, his fur had been styled in the most ridiculous manner she’d ever seen, and his whiskers, oh how they made her want to laugh even harder.

“Starting a new trend in fashion, Arch Duke Yipyap?” she tittered, trying her best to stifle her laughter at his expense.

“This is my punishment for annoying him,” he drolly replied, directing her to follow him inside. “If you’re lucky, perhaps all you’ll suffer is a little embarrassment as well.”

When she heard the words punishment, her heart raced, any further thoughts of mockery towards him immediately evaporated into the aether. “Tell me, arch duke,” she said, feeling worried for the continued survival of her hive. “What is his temperament of late like?”

“The Slave King’s temperament,” he mused, taking great pleasure in her uncertainty. “Well considering the events that transpired this past week, all the interdomain intrigue, his recent marriage, and now the reports of a changeling within his palace walls…”

“Yes?” she said, hanging on his words and feeling impatient as he dragged out his response.

“Queen Ambrosia, have you prepared a line of succession?” he pointedly asked her, paying her back tenfold for her previous barbs against him.

“Wha… What is that supposed to mean?” she stammered, temporarily losing her poise, as she contemplated his meaning.

“Nothing,” he said, allowing the weight of his words to bear down oppressively on her soul. Smiling at her discomfort, he guided her through the main courtyard, and into the palace proper.

Looking at his brand, she shivered. She was well aware of the storied history between the arch duke and the Slave King, and what he’d ended up doing to him. She felt her heart skip a beat, was such a fate awaiting her?

She felt herself shiver as they drew closer to his throne room. As they walked down the corridor, each step she took seemed to reverberate through her soul. Looking at the walls, she saw the various murals celebrating the previous Lord of Earth in various states of disrepair. She saw Lord Darkpaw standing triumphantly over his enemies, and wondered if such a scene would play out between herself and the Slave King.

They came to a stop in front of a set of ornately carved stone doors. Turning towards her, the arch duke held up a paw. “Queen Ambrosia, wait here until we announce you,” he said, pulling his whiskers thoughtfully.

“Very well,” she agreed, watching him enter the throne room, grateful for an opportunity to mull over her thoughts regarding these latest developments.

After a few moments the door opened, revealing the Slave King’s spacious throne room. Looking in, she saw that apparently he’d been doing some redecorating since she’d last seen him. Though most of the palace’s structural damage remained, much of the superficial damage had been repaired. She saw him sitting on his great stone throne, listening as the arch duke whispered something into his ear.

He was just as terrible as she recalled. Looking into his flickering green eyes, and spying a burning desire for vengeance, she saw that time’s passing hadn’t yet worn him down. Looking above his throne, she saw the smiling skull of Lord Darkpaw, staring down at her. She nervously flicked her tail, as she scanned the rest of the room for any detail that might spare her from his wrath.

Sitting beside the Slave King’s great stone throne, on a raised dais of silver was his new wife, Princess Luna. Though she’d only had limited dealings with ponies of late, as opposed to the races in the South which she dealt with regularly, she knew about her current reputation. She was the more tumultuous of the alicorn sisters. Whereas Princess Celestia was more calm and collected, the nigh omniscient diplomat. Her sister was much more prone to emotional outbursts, and an impassioned plea would most likely make her take immediate action. Which was a stark contrast to her husband’s much more aloof and cool approach to politics.

Watching the two sitting together, she suddenly felt a pang of jealousy. Had she not been so hasty in her previous attempt at enthralling him, she might have been the one sitting there as his wife. And then she felt it, Lunar magic of all things! Following it to its source, she found it emanating from Luna and entering the Slave King, something that she found rather odd. Because if her spies’ reports were correct, he’d always eschewed any contact with the goddesses of the Pantheon, and their many repeated attempts at joining with him.

Very curious, she thought to herself, wondering what had changed with him recently, that he’d allow anyone to be so intimate with him in public.

But before she could tease an answer from this new puzzle, his raspy voice filled her ears. “Queen Ambrosia,” he said, filling her with a renewed sense of dread. “I bid you welcome to my domain. Enter.”

Taking a deep breath, she approached his throne and studied him, looking for anything that might aid her against him in there upcoming battle of wills. Walking towards his throne, she felt the eyes of everyone in the room staring at her. Though she was no stranger to being the center of attention for her multitude of subjects, she found their gazes rather unsettling. Strengthening her resolve, she held her head up high, boldly walking towards him as she ignored them. Once at the foot of his throne, she gracefully bowed before him as low as she could, and waited for him to grant her permission to rise.

“Rise, Queen Ambrosia,” he said, looking into her amber eyes, searching them for the slightest hint of treachery.

Returning his gaze with a defiant one of her own, she stood proud and unshaken as she waited for his accusation. Minutes passed, and still he said nothing, instead choosing to remain silent. The only thing she heard pass his lips was the rhythmic sound of his steady breathing. She found it quite unnerving. Why wasn’t he saying anything, did he just summon her here, to drive the fear of the Pit into her heart? Well if that was the case, he was certainly doing an excellent job.

Deciding that she couldn’t bare anymore of the oppressive silence, she flashed her eyes angrily at him. “If you aren’t going to speak, Slave King,” she said, looking back towards the way she’d came. “I shall take my leave of your domain.”

Leaning forward in his throne, his thrummed his fingers rhythmically against the throne’s armrest, before nodding once to the arch duke. “Do you know why I summoned you here?” he said, neither rising his voice nor expressing the outrage she’d fully expected from him.

Levitating the summons in front of her, she prepared to defend herself from his spurious claims.

*****

He lay low before the summoning circle, silently praying that his master wouldn’t fulfill his promise to drag him down into the Pit. The oppressive silence felt heavy, and the pungent scent of brimstone burned his nostrils. Beside him, the changeling assassin, Bazzt Zzzt, stood wearing a neutral expression. Narrowing his eyes angrily at the changeling, he quickly resumed his prostrated posture, hoping that his dark master would pour the full measure of his wrath on him instead for his incompetent bungling.

May the Pit take you! he silently cursed, hoping his master felt the same way.

Things were threatening to unravel, and unless he came up with a suitable excuse, a way of shifting blame from himself, or some sort of contingency plan, he was doomed. And the irony of it all was things had been progressing exactly as his master had foretold. From getting Sombra installed as the administrator over the Crystal Dominion, to knocking Scourge and Nightmare out of the picture, and finally ensuring that the Slave King ended up marrying Princess Luna.

Then disaster struck, Bazzt Zzzt had managed to eavesdrop on a private conversation between himself and his master, and had managed to worm his way into his master’s employ via blackmail. And then, instead of killing the miserable insect, his master had allowed him to live.

When he’d been tasked with retrieving an important artifact, the Elements of Harmony, he’d foolishly commanded Bazzt Zzzt to sneak into the treasury in order to retrieve them. A task that should have been a relatively simple feat for the greatly skilled changeling infiltrator. But instead of returning with the gems in paw, so he could present them to his master, the fool had been bested by mere bitches. And now he had to explain their loss.

“Second,” the harsh voice of his master said, making his skin crawl and heart race. “Was your mission a success?”

Not daring to look up, he shivered, well aware of the terrible fate that awaited him for failing him. “I must apologize master,” he said, fearing for his safety. “Bazzt Zzzt failed to retrieve the elements for you.”

When he heard the blame being shifted to him, Bazzt Zzzt buzzed angrily. “Loozing ze elemetz wazn’t myze faultz,” he protested, trying to save his own neck.

The dark form of their master, scowled when he heard that the mission had been a complete failure. “Is that so, Bazzt Zzzt,” he malevolently said, as his heavy and oppressive breathing echoed loudly in the room.

“Iz truez, mazterz,” he buzzed, while giving Second an evil look. “Didz’t youze givez azzigmentz toz Secondz?”

When he heard Bazzt Zzzt’s counterargument, their master nodded thoughtfully. “Second,” he said, rumbling with displeasure. “The changeling does have a point…”

“Master, wait!” Second said, temporarily losing his composure. “I thought the task would be a good opportunity for Bazzt Zzzt to prove himself to you.”

Annoyed at having been interrupted by his underling, their master’s eyes burned with a hateful fury. “Second, I’m afraid this calls your judgment into question,” he said, thrumming his long clawed fingers against the ground. “Perhaps I made a mistake in trusting you?”

“No!” Second shouted, fearing his master’s wrath. “We can still find them, the aqueduct isn’t that large.”

“You fool!” the master shouted, shaking the room with the booming rage of his voice. “Now that the Elements of Harmony are on the move, it’s only a matter of time until they find their bearers. Second, you’ve seriously vexed me, and I’m trying to find a reason I should trust you any further.”

Hoping to tip the scales in his favor, Bazzt Zzzt decided to reveal his trump card. “Butz mazter,” he said, buzzing his wings excitedly. “Itz waz a trapz.”

Forgetting his anger for the moment, their master turned his attention towards the changeling. “What do you mean a trap?” he asked, his curiosity piqued at this new revelation.

“Iz thez truthz,” Bazzt Zzzt said, trying to be as convincing as possible. “Someonez knewz Iz waz comingz. Theyz evenz floodz aqueductz, makez mez loze elementz inz waterz.”

“Oh really,” their master said, his voice revealing his amusement at his underling’s futile attempt at saving his skin. “And just who was it that was lying in wait for you?”

Bazzt Zzzt gave his master’s terrifying visage a smirk, before using his changeling magic. “I don’t know who it was, master,” he said, speaking in the same low voice he’d heard speaking to him inside the aqueduct. “But they sounded like this.”

When he heard Bazzt Zzzt speak, their master gnashed his teeth in anger. “Jormungandr,” he growled, annoyed that his rival had already begun moving against him so quickly.

For eons, the Winding One had been a constant thorn in his side. Each intricate plan, every obscure plot, all his intrigue was always for naught. Somehow, Jormungandr always seemed to be at least one step ahead of him. Even his last genius plot, had been foiled thanks to that serpent’s meddling, and by assistance from the most unlikely of people, the Slave King. Who could have possibly foreseen his sudden appearance and subsequent ascension to the Pantheon? Though the Slave King’s part had thrown a gremlin into the gears, it was but a minor setback. He simply had to adjust his scheme slightly to this latest development, the plan was still in effect.

No, the Winding One was somehow acutely aware of all his plotting, and had taken steps to mitigate all his scheme. In fact, Jormungandr’s previous violations against him had been so brazen, that he’d been able to get some major concessions from him, regarding their great game. Concessions that he’d been so sure, which should have seriously hampered any future successes against him. However, he’d learn through past experience, to never underestimate the Winding One if he could ever help it.

But even with all those new restrictions on him, it appeared that Jormungandr had found out some loophole that allowed him to still effect things from the spirit realm. But he chuckled when he realized that by having meddled so directly, the rules restricting him had also been weakened. Perhaps he could put that to further use with one of his future chats with her. She was showing so much promise too, he was sure that if he just continued giving her the proper encouragement, she’d reach her full potential shortly. And once she’d seen the light, or darkness in her case, he was sure she’d willingly play her part, just as he’d always intended. Even if the Elements somehow managed to get into the bearers hands, he could still mitigate their pull. In fact if he was careful, their placement on the board could be used to his advantage.

“Master,” Second said, hoping to salvage the loss of the elements. “If we leave now, we might locate the elements before the Slave King does.”

“No, Second,” their master said, shaking his head. “Let Jormungandr have his precious Elements of Harmony. They will only serve to further aid in my grand scheme.”

“Then what shall we do, master?” Second asked, confused by his master’s sudden change of heart.

“Nothing,” he dismissively said, annoyed that he was being asked such a redundant question. “Just ensure that Sombra follows the plan.”

As you wish, master,” Second said with a bow.

When he saw his master’s form crumble into a heap inside the summoning circle, he breathed a sigh of relief. He’d managed surviving his master’s displeasure once more, thankfully living to see another day, and if he was careful, live long enough to receive his promised reward.

But before he could castigate Bazzt Zzzt for nearly killing him with his incompetence, the runes within the summoning circle came to life, as the earth inside the circle filled with a red tinted magical light. Inside, reforming from the broken earth that lay in the circle’s center, their master looked down at him once more.

“And, Second,” he said, staring directly into the doomhound’s red eyes. “Before I forget, one last thing.”

“Yes, master,” he said, bowing before his terrifying visage. “What is it?”

“If you ever fail me again,” his master warned, giving him a look that chilled him to the bone. “You’ll be joining me inside the Pit.”

“Ah, ye… Yes, master,” he said, tripping over his words in fear. “I’ll be sure to remember that.”

“Good, Second. See that you do,” his master said, as his earthen form collapsed back inside the summing circle.

His master’s echoing words, see that you do, echoed through the room, making him shiver with fright. Snarling, he raked his claws on the summoning circle, destroying it, before his master could return to deliver anymore ultimatums.

“Bazzt Zzzt,” he told the changeling, giving the remains of the summoning circle a wary look. “Your next assignment is to deliver a package to Sombra in the Crystal Domain, and to find out what he’s been up to.”

For his part, Bazzt Zzzt gave Second a wicked grin, before changing into his mirror image. “I’ll leave immediately.”

Author's Note

Thank you gentlereader for reading chapter three of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, as always comments are appreciated.

Things appear to be thickening, as the Slave King finally discovers what has been happening right under his nose. Once again, the voice is taunting Luna, and she seems overly eager to prove to her tormentor that the love between her and her husband is true. But while she seems to be arguing against herself, the Slave King appears to be softening towards her. Maybe given enough time, he'll learn to accept her, or then again... maybe not.

And poor Aria, hopefully she'll be able to find in the west, what she failed to receive at home. I wonder how Scourge will manage to break the news to the Slave King, and when he does, will he even care that she's gone, or will he lament that he might have just lost her forever. But whether or not the Slave King sheds any tears over his wayward daughter, one thing is certain, Nightmare won't. Though currently weakened in the service of her master, what will she do when she finally possesses the strength to confront the pony who stole her master away from her?

And what of the new player who just entered the game? Is the changeling queen, Ambrosia destined to wither before the Slave King's wrath, or will she avoid making the same mistake twice. And when the opportunity arises, will Chrysalis stay loyal to her new lord, or return to her former mistress? And as for Second and Bazzt Zzzt, what might lie for them in the Crystal Domain? Will they manage to avoid angering their mysterious master further, or will they fail and join him as the newest permanent residents of the Pit?

Find out the answers to these questions and more, in the next exciting chapter of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, coming soon to computer near you!

Once again, gentlereader, thank you for reading and all your kind words and support. You make writing worthwhile. Until next time!

Prologue: He Who Has Many Names

The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter

A Story by TalonMach5

Prologue: He Who Has Many Names

It was a warm summer morning. In the distance, she heard the cheerful melodies of songbirds and the buzzing of insects. That which had once been oppressive and frightening, now held a sense of normalcy for her. And the otherwise intimidating forest, felt somewhat pleasant to travel through. All around her, sunlight filtered down through the thick canopy overhead, while her caravan followed in the hoofsteps (or was that in the footsteps?), of her unusual guide.

From beneath her faded blue and threadbare silken peaked hat, she looked at the scenery around them. Though she’d not forgotten the dangers this place offered respectable ponies such as herself, now that the sun had banished the night’s shadows, she no longer felt the fear she once had. Her kind were so accustomed to the order and tranquility their land possessed, it was easy to forget that these wild places still existed.

Her contemplation of their journey through the forest was interrupted as the caravan rattled and violently shook. It was another one of those blasted tree roots! Though she was grateful for the protection that her guide offered her, and the rare opportunity the knowledge he possessed presented to her. She wished that he would’ve chosen a less treacherous path through the forest. If for no other reason than to save her caravan’s shocks and struts, which she was sure would need to be completely replaced once this little excursion was over.

She heard a soft snoring come from her bed, and looked over at its occupant with concern. Using her magic she lifted the blanket up, and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that she was still fast asleep. Looking down at her for a moment, she still had trouble believing that the unicorn filly peacefully sleeping in her caravan was his daughter. Truly, there couldn’t be a parent and child more far removed than those two. Like her, the filly’s had a deep blue coat and pale blue mane. In fact, if anypony were to make judgments based on looks alone, they might be tempted to say she was sooner related to the foal than her father was.

Returning her attention to the road, she studied him carefully. Though the fire they had shared last night, had cast shadows that made him appear quite frightening. In the daylight, he was less so. Though the pelt of the great beast draped over his shoulders and metal mask obscuring his face, did little to make him anything but intimidating. Looking at his metallic right arm, she wondered how he’d originally lost it, and what magic was used in the construction of its replacement that allowed it to act almost like flesh. There was so much she wished to ask him, but remembered the previous night’s rebuke when she’d pressed him for more, and knew he’d not speak before he was willing.

Though the stories she’d heard of the wayfarers over the years, described them as a hearty race, she’d been surprised by his steadfast endurance. By now, they had been traveling for hours, and the pace his legs carried him at hadn’t faltered once. Not only was his strength remarkable, he was an experienced woodspony as well. Bushes and vines seemed to melt away at his touch, and what seemed like nearly impossible terrain for all but the most surehooved of ponies, revealed itself to be a passable trail for her caravan.

The scent of wild grass and rotting leaves filled her nostrils. Moments later, the putrid scent of decay made her curl her lips back in disgust. By the smell, she could tell they were approaching a bog. Suddenly, flashbacks of her travails at freeing her caravan from the mud raced through her mind. Remembering how filthy and exhausting yesterday’s ordeal had been, filled her with dread at possibly facing it once more. Looking at her guide, she hoped he’d be able to scout a path for them to travel. Because she wasn’t looking forward to crossing the marshy bog on hoof, and couldn’t afford to abandon her caravan to the wilds.

Without missing a beat, he walked barefoot into the sticky mud without slowing down. Though ordinarily the thick muck might have mired a lesser creature, the wayfarer was crossing the swamp without issue. Stopping her caravan where the putrid muck of the bog met the wild and unruly forest, she looked down at the thick oozing mud with trepidation. If she got stuck here, there was no way she’d ever be able to free her caravan. And judging by the half sunk logs and the submerged and broken trees the swamp had already claimed, if the caravan sunk here, she’d be lucky to escape the bog’s thick, sticky clutches with her life.

When he sensed her hesitation, he stopped and looked at her with his burning eyes. Even midday, those magical flames burned bright. Peering at her from beneath his iron crown, the green flames accused her of doubting him. Earlier he’d promised her, she had nothing to fear if she obeyed him as they traveled together. It seemed that he expected her to honor her promise to him now. Fearful of losing all her possessions to the swamp, she held her breath and drew her magic into her horn, as she prepared moving the caravan forward.

As the caravan’s wheels inched forward, she could feel her heart beating hard in her chest. As the wheels rolled into the mud, she breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t sink like she’d expected to. Still feeling apprehensive about moving her very heavy and fully loaded caravan across the mud, she looked at what seemed to be a nearly endless expanse of reeds and dying grass, before casting one last wistful look at the dry ground of the forest they were leaving behind them. She felt a slight chill run up her spine, he was looking at her impatiently now. She supposed, that he was expecting her to keep up with his brisk pace across the swamp. A feat she found difficult in the forest, but something that should prove easy enough on the soft mud, unless the swamp claimed her caravan first.

Not wishing to annoy him any further, she decided to trust him, and moved the caravan forward at a nice clip. Seemingly satisfied with her, he began walking forward once more. The further away from the sure and rocky soil they had left behind them, the more nervous and afraid she got. She made sure to follow in his footprints, knowing the slightest deviation from his path would surely allow the muck to claim her caravan. Though the ride was much smoother now, she’d give anything to feel the caravan rocking back and forth. At least then, she’d have the comfort of knowing that she was safely on sure ground.

All around the caravan, the swamp bubbled with life. As they passed clumps of tall grass, all manner of mallards, cranes, and waterfowl of all kind noisily flew away as the large caravan disturbed their roosts and nests. Though it wasn’t noticeable at first, the croaking of frogs and buzzing of flittering insects was all around them. In the beginning she didn’t really mind it, but after about twenty minutes of hearing the racket nonstop, the incessant noise began digging into her mind like a knife. Pulling her hat tightly around her ears with her magic, she tried her best to ignore the constant thrum of life, but found the task next to impossible.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie, shall go mad if this keeps up much longer!” she softly moaned, being careful not to wake his daughter. Giving the filly an envious look, she sighed. “Trixie wonders how Little Bleu manages sleeping through this racket.”

As she bitterly complained to herself about the unceasing noise, she failed to notice that her guide was standing still. Noticing that he’d stopped, she locked the caravan’s breaks and prayed she stopped before hitting him. The caravan shuddered, as it slid forward on the slippery mud beneath its wheels and struggled to come to a complete stop. Fearful she was going to hit him, Trixie closed her eyes and hoped for the best.

With a lurch, the caravan finally came to a halt. Cautiously opening an eye, she looked out the hatch that served as the driver’s seat. To her relief, the caravan had stopped just shy of hitting her rather large, tall, and intimidating guide. Looking up at him questioningly, she was about to ask him why he’d stopped, when he held up his metal hand to silence her.

She was sorely tempted to ask anyway, but then she noticed how quiet it was. It was as if the pale pony of death, had dropped down its scythe on all the annoying noisy creatures of the swamp, silencing them with one fell strike. Something about the silence seemed rather unnatural and off, making her skin crawl. She saw his burning eyes darting back and forth, as if he was searching for some hidden thing. Then she felt it. Beneath her hooves, the caravan was vibrating. In fact, as the seconds passed the vibrations became stronger until they made her teeth rattle.

“Stay inside and watch my daughter,” he brusquely said, giving her the distinct impression that if she disobeyed him, he’d withdraw his offered protection without a second thought.

From her vantage point inside the caravan, she looked out the hatch as he stepped away from it, and deeper into the swamp. As he moved away from her and his sleeping daughter, she felt a tinge of fear clawing at the back of her mind. Would the mud continue holding the weight of the caravan, now that he was so far away? What if he abandoned her? Would she be trapped in this deadly bog, miles from the safety of dry ground?

With a single rebuking glance at her direction, his burning eyes quelled all her doubts and fears. She waited to see why he’d walked into the depths of the bog. A few moments later she had her answer, breaking free of the muck was four, rather large heads. Each was covered in dull brown scales, which dripped with the foul smelling water and muck of the swamp, and possessed a pair of shining green eyes, each of which were much larger than the circumference of her caravan’s wheels.

Red fins attached to the heads fluttered, as the nostrils on their muzzles flared in search of new prey. The heads attached to massive serpentine necks, slowly rose out of the dank muddy swamp. Each of the heads bobbed to and fro as they towered over her guide. Slowly, they opened their maws, revealing rows of large sharp teeth and flicked their tongues, tasting the air. As four pairs of lantern like eyes looked down at the much smaller being below them, they narrowed predatorily at what they presumed would be an easy meal.

Trixie felt her heart stop in terror. That was a hydra, one of the most feared predators in Equestria! Though hydras were nearly as large as their draconic brethren, dragons could at least be reasoned with, not so with hydras. Though they had four heads, and possessed as many brains between them. These beasts were dimwitted eating machines, who would just as soon devour you as let you be on your way. Many a pony had ended up as a hydras meal when they had made the mistake of suing for peace, instead of running away to safety.

Whether her guide knew this or not, she didn’t know. He only looked up at the four hungry maws, and tightened his metal hand into a fist. Though she couldn’t see him as clearly from her vantage point, his burning eyes filled her with a sense of wonder and dread. Looking up at the hydra, she could see by its hungry eyes that it didn’t share her appraisal of him. One of the heads licked its maw appreciatively and nodded to its fellows. Immediately, all four heads rushed to meet their prey with their maws wide open. Their saliva covered teeth glistened in the midday sun, as they hissed in anticipation of their meal.

Drawing back his fist, her guide slammed it directly into the maw of the closest head, before leaping back to avoid being gobbled whole. The sound of metal, meeting bone and flesh, made a wet crunch that sent a shiver down her spine. The struck head screamed in pain as its fellows looked on in confusion. Her guide said nothing, only offering the other heads a look of warning with his burning eyes, as he held a stance that suggested further violence would be the result if they persisted in accosting him.

The struck head drew back in fear, as the others gave their companion a withering look of disdain for its cowardice. Each of its four necks bobbed and weaved, as they tried deciding what to do next. One of the heads, impatient and hungry to eat, decided it had waited long enough, and rushed towards her guide with its maw wide open. Without blinking, he moved with a speed and grace his large form suggest was impossible, and deftly avoided its bite. Crack! Once more, the sound of metal meeting flesh made her cringe. This time her guide had pounded the offending head’s skull, burying the hydra’s head deep inside the muck.

With a roar of frustration, the other heads released a soul piercing shriek as they attempted devouring him. What she saw next, defied what she thought was possible. He ran up the stunned head’s neck, easily avoiding the three pairs of biting jaws nipping at his flanks. As he ran along the beast’s serpentine neck and towards its back, each of head’s reeled back in pain, as the only reward they received for their continual attempts at eating him, was a painful crack from his metallic arm.

As the jaws snapped at him, he landed a series of blows, each of which seemed to her more painful than the last. Uppercuts, jabs, and even elbows were being thrown by her guide left and right, as he avoided all their hungry bites. All the while, his eyes glowered defiantly at the supposed apex predator, offering it not a shred of mercy for the pain he dealt out as they fought for their survival. At times, several of its heads looked hungrily at her caravan, filling her heart with a chill of fear. But each time their attention towards him began waning, her guide dissuaded them of the foolish notion that any other should be its concern.

The fight had seemingly been going on for ages, for how long, she didn’t know. To her, it seemed like an eternity had passed. As her guide brawled with the hydra, it seemed to her that the world consisted of only of those two, locked in mortal combat. Though they’d been fighting tooth and nail, and the hydra seemed fatigued, her guide wasn’t missing a beat, and still moved like quicksilver. Though from the little fighting she’d seen over the course of her travels, the stallions (and even griffins in some cases), often made a big show of whinnying and snorting intimidatingly at their opponents. But beyond the hydra’s roars of frustration, her guide was nearly as silent as the swamp. Besides the ringing of metal as his hand and arm met the hydra’s flesh and bones, he was as still as death itself.

Even though he’d promised her protection and safe passage through the Everfree Forest, she was beginning to wonder which the greater danger was, the unnatural, untamed magical wilds of this place, or her wayfarer guide. When she was much younger, she’d once had the opportunity to see Princess Celestia from a distance, when her hometown had hosted that year’s Summer Sun Celebration. The power and majesty she saw displayed by the goddess that day, had left an indelible mark upon her. It was the impetus for her desire to seek out her fortunes on the open road as a wandering storyteller. And now she felt something similar about her guide.

Though the princess had filled her with a feeling of warmth and benevolence, this wayfarer filled her heart full of terror and wonder. Like the forest she feared him, but at the same time the secrets he held filled her with an insatiable desire to know more. She’d decided that no matter what, she had to hear the rest of his story, and learn all his hidden secrets. From behind her, she heard Little Bleu beginning to stir, and knew what she needed to do. Like all fathers, the key to their hearts were through their children, and she was sure her guide would prove no different.

A loud bellow sounded outside, causing the snoring filly to wake with a start. “Daddy?” she whimpered, as the hydra’s roars roused her from her deep slumber.

Trixie approached her with a smile, trying to calm her down. “Little Bleu, he’s outside,” she insincerely said, trying to mask her own fear as best she could. “Trixie was told to stay inside and look after you.”

“Alright,” she said, seemingly satisfied with the answer, as even more roars shook the caravan. “Miss Trixie, I’m hungry. Do you have any food to eat?”

At the mention of food, Trixie’s own stomach began rumbling in complaint. Truth be told, she had little in the way of provisions, and had hoped to fill her larder at the next town. However, those plans had gone out the window when she’d met the filly’s father, heard him tell her his half-finished tale, and had begged him to allow her to join him.

Knowing her guide would be displeased if she let his daughter go hungry, she began rooting through her cupboards looking for something she could offer her. Finding a bruised apple and some stale bread, she picked up the meager meal with her magic and offered them to her. “Trixie knows this isn’t much,” she said, trying to ingratiate herself to the filly. “But hopefully this will ease your hunger.”

Little Bleu looked up at the offered food with gratitude in her purple eyes. “Thank you,” she said, before biting into the bruised flesh of the apple with gusto.

Had she been somepony less hungry, she might’ve turned up her muzzle at the offered fare, but her empty gut made the meal seem like a feast. Looking enviously at the filly, she resumed the search for a meal of her own. As her stomach rumbled and growled in displeasure, her eyes lit up when she discovered a hidden cache of food containing several apples and some hard tack. Though the apples had certainly seen better days, and the hardtack was probably older than Little Bleu, her empty stomach made the decision for her.

Lifting up a piece of the hardtack with her magic, she closed her eyes and prayed that no weevils had been making their home in her food. But before she could eat her questionable meal, a great roar followed by a heavy thud got her attention. Dropping her food, she looked out the caravan’s hatch to see what had happened. She gaped in amazement when she saw her guide standing before the hydra, wearing the same dour look he always wore. The hydra’s heads bowed low in submission before him, as he stood unwaveringly in front of the beast.

Without a sound, he raised his metal hand and pointed towards the distant horizon. The bruised and maimed hydra nodded in understanding, before limping away. The sight of the large hydra cowering with its tail between its legs before the much smaller wayfarer, left in her the impression of somepony disciplining a wayward pet. Had she not seen the sight with her own two eyes, she’d had said what she’d seen was merely the ramblings of a madpony or liar.

Sensing that she was looking at him, her guide turned his attention towards her. Suddenly, she felt the full weight of his searching gaze resting upon her. Shaken, she pulled her head back into the caravan, and returned to her nearly inedible meal. Before she could bite down into the rock like hardtack, she felt him looking at her.

“I was worried, daddy,” Little Bleu said, looking up at him with her large purple eyes. “When I woke up, you weren’t there.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you awoke, Little Bleu,” he said, spying the remnants of her meal. “I had something that needed to be taken care of.”

“I understand, daddy,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the unpleasant odor emanating from him. “Eww, you stink.”

She thought she saw him flash a quick smile at his daughter for a moment, before brushing away some of the muck that still clung to him. “Well we are in a swamp after all,” he said, before looking at Trixie’s unappetizing meal. “I require sustenance. Give me that food.”

Had he been any other stallion, Trixie would’ve told him no. But how do you deny somepony capable of singlehoofedly beating a hydra into submission? “Please, Trixie is so hungry,” she plead, hoping that he’d leave something for her to eat.

Seemingly unaffected by her plea, he shook his head and expectantly held out his metal hand. “I require it all,” he said, not so much asking as ordering her to give him the remainder of her meager rations.

She wanted to object to his ‘request’, but a single look into his burning eyes reminded her that her guide was somepony unaccustomed to taking no for an answer. With a heavy heart, she levitated the last of her food into his waiting hand. She was so hungry she wanted to cry. She remembered the oath of obedience he’d forced her to swear before allowing her to join him, and bitterly wondered if he planned on abusing her oath any further during the rest of their journey together.

“We must keep going,” he said, turning away from the caravan and back into the swampy bog. “Little Bleu, mind her.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she obediently said, as she looked up at Trixie.

“But Trixie is hungry!” she angrily said, as her hunger compelled her to speak.

“Then eat something,” he replied in a tone suggesting he wondered why she was wasting his time with such foolishness.

“There is nothing left to eat!” she exclaimed, bemoaning her sorry and famished state.

“Check your cupboards,” he brusquely said, before walking away.

When she heard his ridiculous suggestion, she wanted to blast him with her magic. Didn’t he know, she’d searched high and low for the last scraps of food he’d so callously demanded from her? Did he honestly think she would’ve bothered eating those crumbs, if there was better fare to be had?

“Is there any more to eat?” Little Bleu asked, looking up at her with hope in her eyes.

It took all her will power to hold back her tongue, from giving the filly an angry scolding for having the audacity to ask such a thing when hadn’t yet eaten. “No, there is nothing more to eat!” she said, raising her voice slightly. “You and your father ate it all.”

“But daddy said to check your cupboards,” she reminded her, feeling slightly guilty she’d asked for more, when Trixie had given them all the food she possessed.

“Trixie already checked them,” she replied, feeling frustrated and agitated that she was having this discussion with the filly. “The cupboards are all bare. There’s nothing there”

“My daddy doesn’t lie,” she protested, feeling her eyes welling up with tears.

In anger, Trixie marched towards the nearest cupboard and flung it open with her magic. “See, nothing’s insi…” she started, before staring slacked jawed at the shelves stuffed to the brim with foodstuffs of all kind.

“See, my daddy did speak the truth,” Little Bleu angrily said, stamping down her tiny hoof in righteous indignation.

She didn’t know what to say. Feeling shame for her earlier outburst at the filly, she lowered her head. “Trixie is sorry for doubting him,” she said, removing her hat with her magic. “Trixie was just so hungry.”

“I forgive you,” the filly said, with a warm smile. “Just don’t talk bad about my daddy ever again.”

“Trixie promises,” she said, levitating a large loaf of sweet bread from the cupboard and breaking it into two. Handing half to Little Bleu, she began stuffing her face with the sugary sweetness of the bread. Never before had she tasted anything as divine as this, and couldn’t wait to eat even more. But before she could reach out for seconds, she felt the all too familiar gaze of her guide boring into the back of her skull. “Little Bleu, Trixie thinks your father is getting impatient with us.”

“My daddy's in a hurry,” she said with a small giggle.

Drawing on her magic, she made the caravan move forward once more, as they resumed their journey to wherever it was that her guide was leading them. Helping herself to another piece of sweetbread, she turned to look at the filly. She saw Little Bleu eagerly eating her piece without a care in the world, and wondered if her father would be displeased that she’d fed her sugar instead of something sensible like carrots and alfalfa instead. Wanting to know more about her mysterious guide, she decided to ply the foal for additional information.

“Where do you live?” she asked, while watching the road.

“Home,” Little Bleu replied, humming a happy tune to herself.

“Where’s that?” Trixie asked, hoping for a less vague answer.

“I donno,” she said, hopping up on the driver’s seat beside her.

“What’s it like?” she asked, guiding the caravan carefully along her guide’s chosen path.

“It’s a sad and lonely place just like my daddy,” Little Bleu replied, looking at her father with slight worry in her purple eyes.

“Trixie wonders how he could ever be sad and lonely?” she asked, deciding to steer the conversation towards her father. “When he has such a wonderful filly as you.”

When Little Bleu heard her compliment, the filly beamed with happiness before whispering to her. “Daddy tries to hide it from me, but I sometimes see him being sad.”

Trixie said nothing as she digested this new information. She wondered if what he’d told her earlier and his unfinished story were somehow related to each other. Whatever else she’d learned about her guide, he was definitely somepony complicated. Sitting in quiet contemplation, she watched as her wayfarer guide trod silently through the boggy muck. Chewing absentmindedly on the sweetbread, she wondered where their ultimate destination would be, and why he’d chosen to travel through such inhospitable terrain.

She felt Little Bleu staring at her, and turned her head to meet her gaze. “What is it?” she asked the filly.

“Please tell me a story, Miss Trixie,” she implored, hoping to be entertained.

“Very well, Little Bleu, Trixie shall tell you a story,” she said, thinking of a good story to tell.

“Thank you, Miss Trixie,” she said, sitting still in rapt attention as she waited to hear her tale.

“Perhaps Trixie shall tell you how she defeated the dreaded Ursa Major,” she said, giving the filly a sideways glance.

“Oh please!” Little Bleu excitedly said, eager to hear the story.

“Well Trixie’s ascent to greatness began several years after she started traveling…” she said, generating an illusion with her magic.

*****

It was beginning to get dark once more, and her guide had yet to grow weary from his nonstop barefoot trek through the swampy marsh. Then she saw it, a tree line in the distance. Her eyes lit up with excitement. Finally, dry ground and safety! she silently cheered. She looked at the distant shoreline impatiently, wishing to put the treacherous bog and the terrible hydras it held, behind her forever. Though the safety of the shore was within reach, her guide made no effort to pick up the pace. He was content to keep moving at the steady gait he’d been walking since they had first started this journey together.

Before she knew it, she felt the caravan jostle about as its wheels ran over some gravel and loose stones. She was safe from the dangers that the swampy bog posed now. Looking at her guide, she saw that he’d stopped. She was tired and hoped that he wanted to break camp here. Applying the brakes, she slowed the caravan down. With a creak and a hard lurch forward, the caravan came to a complete stop. Looking to her side, she saw Little Bleu sleeping peacefully once more. She wondered how long they had walked together, before discovering their campfire last night. Grabbing some rolls and a few pears, she began to eat her fill as she looked at her guide who was currently crouching low to the ground.

Absentmindedly taking a hearty bite from one of the pears, she paid no mind to the succulent juices running down her muzzle as she studied him. Though she knew little of his illusive race, the one thing she did know, was they possessed little magic of their own. Covering his daughter with one of her blankets, she grabbed some food, quietly exited the caravan, and walked towards him.

His lips moved as he stared intently at the ground before him, if she didn’t know better she’d have sworn he was holding a conversation with somepony. Creeping closer to him, she could almost make out what he was saying, when the ground in front of him exploded with green flames, nearly blinding her with their brilliance. When her sight had recovered, she saw to her amazement a green fire burning without fuel.

Her guide looked at her, and saw her wonderment. “The wood here… it’s too wet to burn,” he said in a low rasp, as if that was all the explanation she needed to hear.

“Who are you?” she asked, unable to fathom how he was able to perform feats that even Celestia might have issue with.

“I’m known by many names,” he replied, removing his flask and taking a slow swig, before looking past her towards the caravan and the sleeping foal that it held within. “Child. Monster. The Last. Murderer. Slave. Master. Even husband. But I think my favorite is father.”

Despite her best efforts, she found herself feeling greatly fatigued as she opened her muzzle wide and yawned. Seeing her exhaustion, he held out the small flask. Grabbing it with her magic, she laid back her ears as she gingerly sniffed the contents. “Trixie is curious. What is this, some kind of liquor?” she asked, as the liquid inside sloshed about.

“Drink the draught. It will renew you for the next leg of our journey,” he explained, as he looked at her expectantly.

With slight trepidation, she drank the offered draught. The moment the cool refreshing liquid touched her tongue, she found all the fatigue and weariness that had been crushing her like some great weight, lifted off her shoulders. Eager for more, she tilted her head back and did her best to empty the tiny flask. But no matter how much she drank, the flask never seemed to get any lighter.

After a minute of her trying to inhale the draught, her guide grabbed the flask from her magic’s grasp. “That’s enough for now,” he said, placing the flask back inside the satchel he carried on his hip.

“But Trixie is still thirsty,” she complained, desperate to taste more of that delightful green liquid that seemed to call out to her.

“No. Anymore of the draught, and you might not be able to live without it,” he said, pointing a metal finger at her. “Believe me, that’s one addiction you’d want to avoid.”

“Alright, Trixie understands,” she reluctantly said, wishing she could have just another sip from his flask.

The green flames flickered in the dusk’s waning light, as the night approached once more. She watched him there, sitting before the magical flames, as he occasionally glanced east towards the rising moon on the horizon. Now that they were no longer moving she wondered if he was willing to resume telling her his tale.

“Ask your question, pony,” he said with a voice that made him seem merely a hollow shade of the formerly frightening being she’d once considered him, while he watched the moon rise overhead.

“Trixie wants to know, did the Slave King ever love her?” she asked, hoping he’d share more of his story with her.

He seemed taken aback by her question. Refusing to look at her, he rested his gaze on the caravan once more. “If you betrayed them, did you ever truly love them?” he replied, looking up at the moon once more.

When she heard his reply she looked at him questioningly, she didn’t quite know how to respond. “Trixie knows not,” she said, unsure if she could betray one she loved.

“Pony,” he said with a heavy heart. “What do you choose when confronted with an impossible choice?”

“Tell me,” she said with baited breath.

Turning towards her, the flickering green flames framed his face with dark shadows. “His choice was this…”

Author's Note

Thank you, gentlereader, for reading, as always comments are always welcomed and appreciated. I would like to thank you for your patience as I wrote either the conclusion or book two of three in the Book of Water, of the Great Slave King saga. Hopefully you found the prologue sufficiently interesting, If you haven't yet read the first two entries, I invite you to stop now and do so here: The Great Slave King, and here: The Book of Water: The Marriage of the Slave King. And if you've enjoyed what you've read thus far might I tempt you with a side of: Equestrian Tales Told by Tavernlight.

Expect the addendum and chapter one to be posted shortly. And as an additional bonus, if the story is featured I'll publish chapter two to sweeten the deal. Otherwise, expect it sometime next week.

Once again gentlereader, thank you for reading and all your kind words and support. You make writing worthwhile. Until next time!

Chapter 2: The Promise, a Hope For a Brighter Tomorrow

The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter

A Story by TalonMach5

Chapter 2: The Promise, a Hope For a Brighter Tomorrow

He sat at his usual place at the table, however he found that his normal breakfast didn’t seem to be satisfying at all. Looking into his cup, he saw the same iridescent green liquid he regularly drank for sustenance, and found that he desired more. Looking deeply into the emerald colored draught, he frowned slightly at his reflection while the liquid inside his cup sloshed back and forth.

“Beloved, is there something amiss?” he heard his wife ask.

Turning to his left, he gave her a sour look. Though she was an alicorn princess and was his superior on the Pantheon, she sat beside him catering to his needs. She’d been enjoying a bowl of sweetened porridge and stewed apples, and he suddenly found himself rather envious of her for some reason. Looking into his burning green eyes, she offered him a gentle smile. Placing her hoof near his hand, he found himself reaching out to hold it. Realizing what he’d almost done, he drew back his hand, and slumped into his stone chair.

Seeing her husband’s agitation, she levitated a spoonful of her breakfast towards him as a peace offering with her magic. With the spoon resting near his mouth, she looked at him expectantly with her large turquoise eyes as she waited for him to open his mouth. When he refused to cooperate, she looked at him pointedly.

“Husband, say ah,” she said in a tone that suggested that she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Wife, don’t you dare patronize me,” he hostilely said, moving his mouth away from the spoonful of porridge. “I’m not a child.”

Annoyed at his obstinance, she yanked his greying beard with her magic, making him open his mouth in surprise. Before he had a chance to close it, she’d pushed the spoonful of porridge into his mouth. Before he could spit it out in protest, she held his mouth shut with her magic.

“Husband, thou claimst thou aren’t a foal,” she chided, waiting for him to swallow the mouthful of porridge. “But thou insisteth in acting as the selfsame.”

Grinding his teeth, he looked at her flowing mane that sparkled like diamonds, and her coat as dark as the night sky, and wondered if this was to be his life for the foreseeable future. A weak cripple who couldn’t even find peace in the few things he once enjoyed. Tapping one of the metal fingers on his right hand against the stone table they were eating at, he released a heavy sigh.

“Wife, do as you will,” he said, looking back into his goblet.

“Tis the food, isn’t it, dear husband?” she asked, looking at the food some of their servants had set before them. “Tisn’t to thy liking?”

Taking a sip from his cup, he angrily set it down in disgust, causing the draught inside to splash everywhere. When she saw the mess he’d made had gotten onto her otherwise immaculate blue silken coat, she frowned, before using her linen napkin to wipe the offending mess away.

Gripping the armrests of his stone seat, he looked enviously at her breakfast. He could still taste the sweetness of the sugar and cinnamon on his tongue, while the crispness of the apples lingered in his memory. He found that he liked it, and was now desiring more, something that he found rather troubling. Never before had he any desire for sustenance beyond his draught, and now because he found it wanting, he was beginning to worry.

Seeing the hungry look he was giving her food, she smiled and moved her bowl towards him. “Woulds’t thou care for more, darling?” she asked, levitating another spoonful of porridge towards him.

He shook his head. “Wife, it’s unseemly to rob you of your breakfast,” he said, wishing these new found desires would leave him.

“Dear heart,” she said, placing her head against his. “Thou needeth sustenance more than we. Besides, our servants cans’t always make more.”

Opening his mouth in an act of contrition for his earlier outburst, he willingly ate each spoonful of porridge she offered him. As she slowly feed him, he found a sense of contentment as the sweetened porridge and stewed apples filled his stomach. It was much like how he’d felt earlier, when her divinity had been sustaining him, when they had attempted reconnecting his divinity to the source of his power. Feeling thirsty, he drank deeply from his cup, and found it a much more fulfilling experience this time.

Offering his wife a look of gratitude for insisting that he eat, he sat back in his stone chair, feeling completely satisfied. Looking down at his emptied cup, he waited for it to be refilled, but saw to his disappointment that Gunhilde, his cupbearer, was nowhere to be found. Looking around the room, he found that beyond his wife and himself, it was completely empty. He found it odd. Normally, either Harmony would be tut tuting him about his schedule, or Melody would be playing her lute in the corner as he ate. And as far as his cupbearer was concerned, ever since she’d accepted the position he offered her, she’d always been nearby, and ready to fill his cup at a moment’s notice. But now, none of them were anywhere to be found.

Struggling to sit up to his full height, he trembled as his body threatened to slump back into his seat. “Where is my cupbearer?” he rumbled, causing his wife to look up at him in surprise.

Moments later, a diamond dog servant rushed into the dining hall, and looked up at him with concern on his muzzle. “I can see to it that your cup is refilled, my king,” he said with a low bow.

Looking down at his servant, he saw that it was one of the many nameless valets that served him in some capacity. Most were of a treacherous sort, and thus he’d never bothered learning any of their names. He knew that all they most likely wanted, was to simply elevate their position amongst his staff. Leveling a stern gaze down on the diamond dog that dared to elevate himself unbidden, he disapprovingly pointed a metal finger at him. “Where is my cupbearer?” he asked in a low rumble, suggesting he wouldn’t brook any excuses.

“The reindeer, my king?” the valet asked, not entirely sure why he desired her over himself, a loyal diamond dog.

“Yes, Gunhilde, my cupbearer,” he said, growing impatient.

“I don’t know, my king,” the valet said, shifting on his paws nervously. “Perhaps she’s deserted you?”

When he heard him utter such slander against her, his fury burned hot. Rising up out of his seat, much to the surprise of his wife, his flaming green eyes burned like a fiery inferno. “Get out and find her then,” he growled, feeling his anger fuel his new found strength. “Find her, and her companion Chrysalis as well.”

“But… but, my king,” the poor frightened valet stammered.

“If you don’t find them, don’t bother coming back,” he said, showing them a full measure of his displeasure. “Now leave me.”

“Of course, at once, Slave King,” the diamond dog said with a curt bow, before running out of the dining hall and back into the palace.

Hearing the panicked shouts of the valet commanding others to join him in the search echoing through the palace walls, he smiled, before his strength gave out, sending him falling back into his unforgiving stone chair. With a heavy clunk, his crown smashed into the chair’s headrest, chipping its otherwise smooth surface. With concern in her eyes for his wellbeing, his wife used her magic to prop him up.

"Husband, art thou all right,” she worriedly asked, looking into his flaming eyes that seemed to burn even brighter than before. “Shalt we summon our physician to thee?”

“No, Wi… Luna,” he said, looking at her with a softened look for the first time since he’d been struck down by his vile curse. “I’ll be all right, I just need to catch my breath is all.”

“Beloved,” she said, embracing him strongly with her powerful wings. “We wert so worried for thee.”

Though he had little strength left in his arms, he returned her embrace as well as he could. “It’ll be all right, wife. It’ll be all right,” he said, offering her what little comfort he could.

Caught in her embrace, he didn’t quite know why, but found himself enjoying the feeling of her silken coat against him, and the scent of her perfume to be slightly intoxicating. Knowing he needed to extract himself from her grasp, he pulled away from her.

Reluctantly, Luna withdrew her wings and looked down at him. Overjoyed at the small sign of affection he’d just shown her, she beamed with happiness. Seeing the remnants of their breakfast, she looked at him questioningly. “Husband,” she said. “Dost thou desireth to sup more?”

“No,” he replied, looking down thoughtfully at his emptied cup. “But I still thirst.”

Seeing his desire for more of his draught, she levitated a draught filled bottle towards his goblet, intent on filling it for him.

Seeing what his wife was trying to do, he covered his cup with his hand. “No,” he sharply said. But then, seeing the look of hurt and disappointment on her muzzle, laid his hand on her shoulder. “Wife, I desire to sit upon my throne now.”

When she heard his request, any prior bruised feelings she might have once had, evaporated in the aether. Eager to serve him and prove her devotion to her husband, she levitated him onto her back with her magic.

“Come, dear husband,” she said, walking out of the dining hall and towards his throne room with a bounce in her step. “Let us be off.”

“Don’t appear so eager to carry me, wife,” he said, as they passed by some of their servants which were bowing before their king and their new mistress. “The servants might talk.”

“Then let us give them something to talk about, husband,” she suggestively said, sending her magic thrumming through him.

Unprepared for her magic that she’d sent coursing through him, it took all his will power to fight off her advances. Feeling his resistance, Luna withdrew most of her magic from him as she carried him. Feeling flush from their combined power, he contemplated making an issue of it, but seeing her playful smile, thought better of it. She’d enjoyed teasing him, and he decided he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of a response.

Choosing to remain silent, he wondered how he’d ever allowed things come to this.

*****

Waking up from a blissful sleep, he yawned as his eyes adjusted to the low light of the room. Feeling the softness of the satin sheets covering him, he sighed with relief. It hadn’t been a cruel dream after all, he was finally safe, yet all alone. Of course this wasn’t the first time he found himself a wanderer, a stranger in an unknown land. However, this time his reception was much kinder.

Before, his previous hosts had only seen fit to beat and starve him. To give him the taste of the lash for the slightest transgression. To sear his flesh with their brand, marking him as their property forevermore. They had taken everything from him, and yet he was at peace with it. Though those he’d loved were long gone and buried, it seems fate had seen fit to compensate him for his loss.

He’d found himself in the care of a beautiful woman, who claimed to love him greatly. Who welcomed him into her home, tended to his wounds, fed him the first good meal he’d eaten in over a decade, and had given him the first night of peaceful sleep he’d had in just as long. Though she claimed she didn’t expect anything in return for her kindness, her eyes told another story. She clung desperately to a forlorn hope, that he could be who he never could, the Slave King.

Even saying the name felt odd to him. As far as he was concerned, he was the real King. And yet if he was to believe her story, he was nothing more than a copy, a shadow, an echo of a man long since dead. He wondered how he’d gone so wrong, to allow the horrible things he’d been told about. He’d never had any desire to be the monstrous tyrant he’d apparently became. All he’d ever desired was freedom for himself and his family, and yet he’d inflicted such evil upon countless innocents. How could he ever live with the guilt and shame, knowing what he’d wrought?

Sitting up in the bed, he remembered the mottled griffin he’d encountered in the desert. How thanks to his cowardice, had been captured and enslaved. He remembered the tiny blue unicorn filly, crying in her cage, and how he’d stolen food from her. He thought back to mines he toiled in for his masters, and how he’d been nearly beaten within an inch of his life, before the selfsame filly moved gems from her pile onto his, saving him from the whip. He remembered sitting together with them in the hot springs on their weekly days off, and being taught by them how to speak their language.

Picking up the clothes his hostess had provided for him, he began dressing. Looking into a nearby mirror, he saw his reflection, and the many scars he carried. One particularly nasty one, ran across his chest and along his back. He’d gotten it rescuing her from one of their taskmasters. They had decided to beat her after they were done taking liberties with her, when she’d failed to act as enthusiastically as they had wanted her to. That had cost him forty lashes. He looked at his burned face, and sighed. The forge had been burning hot that day, and had his brother not been so slow bringing the coal, perhaps their taskmaster wouldn’t have made an example of them.

He remembered feeling the cool air blowing against face, when he broke through the tunnel. He remembered how happy and excited they both were when he’d shared the discovery with them. He tried remembering more, but couldn’t. He felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and felt it beating for three. He, her and himself, and though they were no longer with him, he would live as they would’ve wanted him to. Though he still felt shame and horror within him regarding what the Slave King had become. For them, he buried those feelings deep within his heart.

“Snowe, Little Bleu…” he said, placing his hand against the mirror. “Sleep well.”

The sound of the door opening caught his ear. Turning towards it, he waited expectantly for his hostess to enter. “Lady Suzaku,” he said, offering the gorgeous phoenix a small smile.

“Hello, Sla…” she said, before catching herself. “I apologize. But I only know you by that name.”

He shook his head, and raised his hands slightly, indicating he wasn’t offended. “Lady Suzaku, it’s alright, I understand,” he said, trying to put her at ease. “If it’s easier for you, simply call me King instead.”

Happy that he’d not been offended by her slip of the tongue, she approached him. “Well then, King,” she said, trying to remember he was a different man then the one she loved. “I wanted to see if you were hungry.”

When he heard her mention breakfast, he felt his stomach rumble as his mouth watered. “I am feeling a bit peckish, Lady Suzaku,” he admitted, grateful for the chance to sate his hunger.

“Oh please, King,” she said, placing her wing against his cheek. “Call me Zuzu, or just Suzaku if you must.”

Though she seemed comfortable enough allowing him to use a pet name, he felt ill at ease doing so. Deciding he wasn’t quite ready to be so familiar with her, he opted to simply drop her title. “As you wish, Suzaku,” he said, waiting for her to lead the way to breakfast.

*****

As it turned out, breakfast had nearly been a banquet. Lady Suzaku had had her servants prepare all manner of food. Not in his previous decade of living had he ever seen such a bounty. In fact, even before he’d come to this place, had he ever seen such an amount and variety of food to choose from. Apparently, she didn’t quite know what he preferred eating. Which he found rather odd, since as intimate as she’d claimed to have been with the Slave King, he would’ve thought the kinds of food he preferred would have been well known to her.

“Darling,” she said, sitting beside him at the table. “Do you find the food agreeable?”

When he heard her address him as darling, he didn’t know what to do. On the one hand he owed his entire existence to her, and didn’t mind that she wasn’t human. But on the other hand, he was still grieving for his daughter and brother, and didn’t know if he was quite ready to open his heart to another. And then there was the issue of their feather folk children. Though he had a good idea of what she wanted with him, he wasn’t quite sure what that would entail.

“Yes, Suzaku, the food is wonderful,” he said, helping himself to some more fruit.

“But I can tell something weighs heavily on your mind, King,” she said, looking at him with concern. “Tell me please, my love.”

Still feeling uncomfortable with receiving such terms of endearment from his hostess, he bit his lip nervously as he looked away from her. “I think some part of me knows they died, and that I should move on,” he said, looking out a nearby window towards the west. “But my heart tells me I still need to fulfill my promise to them.”

“What promise was that, love?” Suzaku asked, intrigued by his past and delighted that he was choosing to share something so personal with her.

“Long before we escaped,” he said, taking a sip from his cup. “We promised each other that if we ever escaped, we would swim together in the Western Sea under the sun and moon.”

Though the Slave King had rarely spoken of them to her, over the years she’d gleaned enough information about his family to know how much they had meant to him. Touched by the romanticism of his desire to fulfill his long standing promise, she decided to help him fulfill it.

“I know your desire, love,” she said, thinking back to her own promise to herself, to one day be reunited with her love once more. “King, I shall aid you.”

Though grateful to her, and for her hospitality towards him, he didn’t hold any affection towards her. But when he heard her offer to help him fulfill the promise he’d made to them so long ago, he felt his heart burn and eyes moisten.

“Thank you, Suzaku,” he said, trying to hide his reddened eyes. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Knowing that he was too proud to show her his tears, she placed a wing on his shoulder and embraced him. “All I ask, love, is that you allow me to make you happy,” she said, glad that she could aid him in this way.

Though she seemed to be sincere, his years as a slave had jaded him. Part of him hoped she was being genuine, and yet part of him feared it as well. “Why, Suzaku?” he asked, drawing slightly away from her touch.

“Because I love you,” was her reply. “What more can I say, than that?”

“Part of me still expects this all to be some elaborate, cruel prank,” he said, confessing his fears to her. “That I’ll wake up, back in chains, a slave once more.”

Hearing his concern, she immediately thought back to that fateful day that he’d been banished by the Pantheon. Back then, she’d not given any thought to her vote agreeing to banish him. She’d been flirting with Lord Ouroboros then, trying to catch his eye, and had giggled when he’d mocked the new godling’s punishment. Remembering her previously callous behavior, her heart ached. Even though her vote wouldn’t have been enough to spare him from his banishment, maybe things might have ended up differently had he known not everyfeather wished him harm.

“King, my love, I swear by the moot, as long as I draw breath, no harm will come to you,” she said, wishing to absolve herself of her guilty conscience.

Knowing the power of such an oath, and having seen her power first hand, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. But something still bothered him, and he needed to know for his own peace of mind. “So, Suzaku… What is the purpose of all this?” he asked, gesturing towards the food laden table, the servants waiting on them hand and foot, and pointing towards the fine clothes she’d provided for him.

“Why, love, it’s breakfast of course,” she said, releasing an airy giggle at her little joke.

“Suzaku, are you trying to court me?” he asked, deciding to be direct.

Offering him a look radiating warmth and love, she placed her wing atop his hand. “Yes, love,” she admitted, offering him a gentle smile. “I would have thought it was obvious what my intentions were.”

With his suspicions confirmed, he went silent, returning his gaze towards the west. “When do you think we can go to the Western Sea, Suzaku?” he asked in a lonely tone, indicating his mind was in some far off place.

Hearing his reluctance, she withdrew her wing from his hand. Though it hurt her that he was unable to accept her affections just yet, she promised herself, that she would keep trying until he did. “King, whenever you feel well enough to travel,” she said, looking into his warm brown eyes. “But don’t misunderstand me, love. You’re under no obligation to me. Feel free to reject me, and even pursue another if that’s your desire. All I ask, is you give me a chance.”

He nodded appreciatively at her, and released the breath he’d been holding in for several minutes. “Thank you for understanding, Suzaku,” he said, relieved that she wasn’t demanding that he love her regardless of his own feelings on the matter. “If it would be all right, can we go as soon as possible?”

Seeing the same decisiveness in him, which their daughter Aria also possessed, made her smile. Those two, they were so alike. She only wished she could share him with their children, so they could see him for themselves. But she knew that was folly, there was no telling what the Pantheon would do, to say nothing of how the Slave King might react, once news of his existence became public. Thoughts of everything from banishment, to outright execution crossed her mind.

Though, the wayfarer probably didn’t know it, the source of his creation had spent five centuries bathing in the waters of Well of Eternity. Additionally, the blood of two deities flowed through his veins, the Slave King’s and herself. Which on some level, made her his mother. But as interrelated as the Pantheon was, such distinctions were irrelevant. So while pursuing such a relationship might be frowned upon by mortals, it was far from the oddest pairing amongst her fellow deities.

Deciding that he needed to disguise himself as any other wayfarer, she decided to tell him about her plan. “Love, before we can leave the safety of my domain, we need to discuss some things,” she said, gesturing that he follow her into her parlor.

Getting up from the table he walked beside her, as they made their way together through the gaily colored passages of her Summer Palace. Approaching a pair of ornately decorated golden doors, she used her magic to open them. Inside, the room was richly furnished with thick carpets, soft cushioned seats, beautiful silk tapestries, and gilded cages full of singing nightingales.

Sitting down on a large seat made for two, she patted the cushion next to her, indicating that she wished for him to sit beside her. Though he felt uncomfortable being so close to her beauty, he decided to humor her, and sat down beside her.

Pleased that he’d accepted her invitation, she placed her wing on top of his hand, and looked at him. “King, love,” she said, wishing she didn’t have to breach such an unpleasant subject. “We know your people only as wayfarers.”

“Yes, you told me that earlier,” he said, finding his curiosity piqued by her reticence to discuss this topic.

“Wayfarers do pop up from time to time,” she admitted, stroking his hand with her feathers. “But they disappear as quickly as they appear.”

“It’s a shame I never had that luxury,” he said, bitterly remembering all the cruelty he suffered at the hands of his former masters. “I wonder what had changed to make that possible. I quite literally fell through a hole in the ground.”

“Well during the last great moot, which brought harmony back to Equestria,” she explained, recalling what had happened. “The Slave King demanded we turn over any Wayfarers we find to him.”

“So, Suzaku, what happened to all those who came after me?” he asked, wondering what could have possibly happened to the rest of the humans.

“Truthfully, nofeather knows their true fate,” she said, moving herself closer towards him. “Only that they’re gone as quickly as they arrive.”

“Has someone been killing them?” he asked, worried that perhaps one of the deities on the pantheon had been killing any humans unfortunate enough to be caught by them, in order to get back at the Slave King.

“Not that I’m aware of, love,” she said, deciding now was the right time to voice her concerns. “Love, outside my domain, my power wanes. Also the Slave King might not react too kindly towards you.”

He could understand her concerns for his safety. Judging by what he’d heard about his temperament, it was safe to say the Lord of Earth might take offense that they shared the same face. He knew there couldn’t very well be two Slave Kings after all. “So what do you suggest we do?” he asked.

“I think a disguise would be best,” she said, thinking of the possibilities.

“Well, I suppose I could wear a heavy cloak and mask,” he said, looking down at his brands and scars. “But my burned face, scars, and brands will be hard to hide.”

“Well, love,” Lady Suzaku said, releasing a portion of her magic into him. “I was thinking of something a tad more permanent than a simple change of clothing.”

He felt her power thrumming through him, and nearly jumped off the cushion in surprise. The closest thing he could compare the sensation to, was like a warm current running up and down through every part of his body. “Suzaku, what’s happening to me?” he worriedly said, feeling both fear and something entirely else in the pit of his stomach.

“Shh, my love,” she cooed, caressing his face. “Just relax, King, and let me take care of everything for you.”

Realizing that she was the source of the tingling he was feeling, he shook and looked at her with uncertainty in his eyes. “Suzaku, please stop,” he said, feeling conflicted by whatever she was doing to elicit these strange feelings resonating within him.

Realizing that what she was doing might push him away from her forever, she drew most of her power back inside her. “I’m sorry, love,” she said, offering him an apologetic smile. “You look so much like him, I sometimes forget you’re a different feather altogether.”

“What were you doing to me, Suzaku?” he asked, feeling a barely noticeable tingle still inside him.

“It’s hard to put into words, love,” she said, struggling how best to describe the song of creation. “When the divine wish to join, we sing. It allows us to use our divinity to create and change.”

“Were you trying to join with me?” he asked, wondering if she’d just tried raping him.

Seeing the distant look of anger reflected in his eyes, she realized what he’d meant, and immediately felt her heart ache once more with guilt. “Love, I would never…” she started to say, before falling silent. In truth, she’d once did the same to the Slave King. She’d abused his trust, and been cast out of his domain in response for her betrayal. Realizing that she’d nearly repeated her previous mistake with his doppelganger, brought her to tears.

Seeing her cry, pricked his heart. In truth, beyond it feeling strange at first, it almost seemed pleasurable after a while. “Suzaku, er, Zuzu,” he said, hoping that using her pet name might show her that he held no hard feelings towards her. “I… I was just surprised is all, I wasn’t prepared.”

Relieved that he didn’t bare any ill will towards her, and happy that he’d used her nickname, she dried her eyes, and hugged him tightly. “Love,” she said, knowing he deserved to know the truth. “When we gods join, it’s similar to when mortals become intimate with each other.”

“I see…” he murmured.

“I didn’t mean to,” she said, trying to explain herself. “I mean, I would love to share that with you, but it wasn’t my intent.”

“Then why did you do it?” he asked, feeling slightly annoyed.

“Well joining has functions other than procreation,” Lady Suzaku explained. “We can use it to imbue things with our divinity or even change the physical world.”

“I suppose it has something to do with disguising me then?” he guessed, remembering their earlier discussion.

“Yes, love,” she said, slowly releasing her divinity back into him. “I was hoping to heal your scars.”

Nodding thoughtfully, he sat back as he felt her magic entering him. Though his scars had been a part of him for so long, he held no love for them. In fact, removing them from him, would be his final act of defiance against those who had held him against his will as a slave. He could see the virtue of her idea. If the Slave King had truly been living with these scars for nearly five centuries, removing them would most likely make him unrecognizable at first glance.

“Suzaku, it’s a sound plan,” he said, giving her wing a slight squeeze. “You have my permission to continue.”

When she heard him grant her his permission, she was relieved. Though her time wouldn’t be upon her until next season, being so close to him had reawakened a hunger and desires she’d been unable to fulfill for ages. Though she’d been sincere in her regret in nearly joining with him without his permission, a part of her was demanding she bend him to suit her whims. But now free to infuse him with her divinity, she sang the song of creation as she tried erasing the terrible scars that had marred him as long as she’d ever known him.

She was surprised when she discovered that he was as malleable as clay. On her previous attempts at healing the Slave King, she’d always found him as rigid as granite and as unbending as a mountain. She supposed it was due to his previous years of hard living, spent in the madness that had nearly consumed him. Examining his soul, she found it shining as bright and warm as the sun. In the past, when she’d joined with the Slave King, she’d always found his soul dark. Though it was as strong as arcanum, it held little warmth of its own, and always left her own soul feeling rather chilled.

As she erased the scars from him, she finally saw the feather beneath them for the first time. Though she’d always found him ruggedly handsome, scars or not, removing them from him was a remarkable improvement. Tracing a feather against his hard, lean body, she found herself wishing she could lose herself to the melody of the Song of Creation. But knowing he wasn’t ready to share that with her quite yet, she fought back against her desires, and released him from her divinity’s hold.

“Love, I’m finished,” she said, pulling away from him, lest she give into temptation and pounce on him.

Looking at his arms and chest, he saw that for the most part, the scars had been erased from his flesh. Almost as if he’d never carried them at all. Tracing his finger along one of the nearly invisible scars running along his arm, he frowned when he saw that his hateful brands were still imprinted on his biceps.

“Do you need more time to finish this, Suzaku?” he asked, hoping that she was planning on removing his scars in stages.

“I’m sorry, love,” she said, noting how disappointed he was, that his brands remained burned into his flesh. “I could do nothing for the scars seared into your soul. When you entered the Well of Eternity, the spark of divinity merged with you, transforming you into an eternal being. The parts that defined you, including your brands, were imprinted on your soul, and thus became immutable.”

Sighing in disappointment, he closed his eyes, and breathed in deeply. “Then I suppose there’s no point in dwelling on it,” he said, accepting that they would be with me for the foreseeable future.

“Love, I’ve always found they were part of your charm,” Lady Suzaku said, handing him a mirror. “Come, King, see your new face.”

Holding the mirror in front of him, he slowly turned it around, until he saw his reflection in the mirror’s smooth, glassy surface. What he saw staring back at him, was a stranger’s face. It had been so long since he’d seen himself without scars, he barely recognized himself. Gone was his broken nose, and the pitted scarred skin from the large burn that had once covered most of his face. He smiled, revealing a full set of dazzling white teeth. It was as if he was a whole new person. Sure, if you looked closely enough you could still see traces of his former scars. But for the most part, they were gone or nearly invisible.

“Well, Suzaku,” he said, handing her back the mirror. “You certainly do good work. I barely recognize myself. And I’m sure the Slave King will have even greater difficulty recognizing me.”

Pleased that he’d found her work acceptable, she kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Oh, love, I’m so glad you’re happy with it,” she said clapping her wings together with excitement. “Now we only have the issue of your name.”

“Yes,” he said, realizing any connection to their shared name might raise suspicion. “You can’t very well can’t keep calling me King, Suzaku. Eventually someone will put two and two together.”

“Excuse me, love?” she asked, not quite catching his meaning.

He flashed her a brief smile, and lightly chuckled. “It’s an expression my people have,” he explained. “It means if you keep calling me King, someone will eventually figure things out.”

“Yes, King. That was my thinking as well,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “What we need to give you is a new name.”

“That’s probably for the best,” he agreed, thinking of possible aliases to use.

“So, love. Do you have any ideas about what you would like to be called?” Lady Suzaku asked, spreading her wings slightly as she thought of an appropriate name to offer him. Thinking of the names her people used, she offered him a name she thought was worthy of him. “How about Apogee, dear?”

“No, I don’t think that’s the name for me,” he said, wondering why she’d suggested such an unusual name.

Remembering his connection to the ponies, Lady Suzaku thought he might appreciate a proper Equestrian name instead. “How about Tempered Steel, love?” she suggested, thinking such a name was fitting for him.

“Tempered Steel?” he said in a way that suggested that name left a foul taste in his mouth. “I don’t think a pony name suits me, Suzaku.”

When she heard him shoot down her last suggestion, she furrowed her brow in consternation. Didn’t he know she was trying to help him find something he liked? Well then, King,” she said, pursing her beak slightly. “Perhaps you should pick a name from your homeland then.”

When he heard her say his name, inspiration hit him. “Suzaku, I’ve got it,” he said, clapping his hands together at the sheer brilliance of it. “Call me Elrey.”

“Elrey…” she mused, liking how it rolled off her tongue.

“It means the king, in one of the languages of my people,” he said.

“King, love, er, I mean, Elrey. I like it,” she said, appreciating the irony of changing his name to another with the exact same meaning. “Elrey is a fitting name for you. Now come, love, let’s prepare for our trip to the Western Sea.”

He nodded in agreement, stood up, and followed after her. Looking behind him, he saw the empty parlor where she’d transformed him. Inside, he’d left behind his old name, his old life, and had taken up a new mantle. Though he’d miss the good parts, the wonderful parts of his previous life, he knew it was time to move on. Burying who he once was, alongside his long dead family, Elrey left the past firmly behind him, as he walked forward to meet the future.

*****

She felt somefeather gently slapping her face. Fluttering open her ruby eyes, she saw that everything seemed to be a dark blur. Rubbing her half opened eyes with her hands, she blinked several times, as her vision slowly came into focus. Looking around, she saw that she was still inside the ancient aqueduct. Feeling slightly groggy, she yawned once, and saw standing above her, her sister, Harmony, the Black.

Harmony wore a weary look on her face. Marring her otherwise beautiful visage, were worry lines etched deeply into her brow by years of continuous frowning. Finally noticing that she was awake, Harmony offered her, her hand to help her to her feet. Grasping it, she slowly stood up onto her feet. Rubbing her sore tush, she looked around for her companions.

“Harmony,” she said, looking down at her ruined dress with regret. “Is everyfeather else all right?”

Seeing her struggle with her dirty, torn, and waterlogged dress, she offered her a clean handkerchief. “Beyond being miserable and wet, and unconscious for nearly a full day,” she said, creating a halo of floating lights above their heads. “They’re none the worse for the wear. But tell me, what happened to you down here.”

“We discovered signs of a changeling infiltrator inside the palace,” she said, remembering the events that had led up to them coming into this nearly forgotten place.

“A changeling? Are you absolutely sure?” she asked, already dreading the mountain of paperwork such an incidence would make for her.

“Yes, Harmony,” she said, wiping off her face and beak with the handkerchief, before offering it back. “I think it’s the same one that interfered during the tournament, and it even changed into the same ghast that attacked Aria.”

Grimacing at the condition of the now filthy handkerchief, she held up her hands, indicating she didn’t want it back. “So where are they now?” she asked, involuntarily shuddering when she remembered how fiercely the fight against the ghast had been.

“Once the aqueduct flooded, we were carried away by the current,” she admitted, remembering the changeling turned serpent’s roars of anger echoing through the large tunnel. “They could be anywhere by now.”

Probably already back at their hive no doubt,” Harmony growled, annoyed that she’d been denied her revenge against the changeling that had so brazenly bypassed her wards, and defied their security.

“I don’t think so,” she replied, running her fingers through her filthy plumage, and looking at disgust at the filth she found nestled between her feathers. “We found the changeling inside the treasury.”

When she heard that the changeling had been inside the treasury, she inwardly groaned with despair, there’s no telling what it might have taken. Beyond the mountains of gold and gems without number, there were numerous magical artifacts of all kinds, from the mundane to the obscenely powerful. There was the Vendetta of course, a magical weapon capable of slaying even gods. However, even touching such a weapon was almost impossible, without first being devoured by the vengeful souls that dwelt within it, and anyfeather who would resort to stealing it, was almost surely without a heart pure enough to withstand its rage.

Beyond the godslayer, there were master work weapons from the great weapons smiths of ages past, gems of arcane might, books of esoteric knowledge, and artifacts of great power, that caused even the gods to dread the day they ever reached the hands of mortals. The Slave King had little in the way of security regarding his treasury, to the point of what she thought was foolish, the Domain of Earth couldn’t afford allowing even a single artifact escaping into the wild. There was no telling what mischief such objects of power could cause in the wrong hands, and when that happened, it would most undoubtedly fall to her to fix it to the Slave King’s satisfaction.

“Argh, damn it!” Harmony shouted in frustration, knowing full well how long a complete inventory of the treasury would take her. Opening up her ledger, she began furiously writing in it as she scheduled the preliminary meeting to discuss taking inventory with the Slave King.

Seeing her fury, she offered her sister a cheeky grin. Like their father, Harmony always seemed plagued by rage whenever something unexpected happened to throw off her oh so precious schedule. “Harmony, is something vexing you?” she teased.

Seeing that smug grin plastered on her face made Harmony want to cast a few spells in retaliation. Though she loved her sister dearly, sometimes she could be so infuriating. Her sister could afford to laugh about the situation, she couldn’t. If she didn’t nip this in the bud, while she still had a chance of battening things down before it became too unmanageable, things could get rather dicey between themselves and their neighboring domains. And with things at tense as they were between Water, Fire, and now apparently the Winter, the last thing they needed was adding even more fuel to the fire.

“Oh, ha, ha, Melody,” she sarcastically growled, thoroughly annoyed by her sister’s teasing. “It’s easy to laugh when you’re not the one stuck fixing all this.”

When Melody the Yellow heard her sister’s distress, her cocky grin evaporated. “Harmony…” she said, reaching out her hand to comfort her sister. “I didn’t mean to…”

Seeing her sister’s face reflecting concern for her, melted her anger away. She couldn’t stay mad at her, well not for long at least. Accepting her sister’s embrace, she grimaced when she remembered how filthy her clothes had become. Pulling away, she offered her a sour look when she saw the filth of this place stained on her once clean clothing. “You can go, Melody,” she said, pointing the way towards the treasury. “Gunhilde, Chrysalis, and the seapony are waiting for you.”

“But what about you, Harmony?” she asked, unwilling to abandon her sister to salvage things all by herself.

“I’ll be along later, I still need to fill out the preliminary report about what happened here,” she said, gesturing towards her ledger.

Remembering what she’d been told earlier, she flashed her sister a wide grin. “How about I save you all the trouble, Harmony?” she said, offering her sister a playful smile.

Remembering the last time her sister had helped, she rolled her emerald eyes dismissively. The last time she’d taken her up on her offer, she’d been forced to spend nearly three weeks smoothing things over with the Equestrian ambassador, one Blueblood. He’d had a penchant for the exotic, and found the feathered folk as exotic as they come. She could still feel his lecherous eyes undressing her, and involuntarily shuddered with disgust. If Princess Celestia hadn’t relieved him from his post, there was no telling what he might have tried next.

“Thank you, Melody, but I think I’ve got things covered here,” she said, writing a few notes down in the pages of the ledger, before muttering, “I won’t abide another Blueblood.”

“Ah, but he had such an adorable crush on you, sis!” Melody teased, giving her sister a knowing grin.

“Crush, hardly! More like unwelcomed lust, and perverse lechery,” Harmony retorted, as flames erupted from her black feathers when she remembered how he’d unsuccessfully tried blackmailing her for sexual favors.

“But I know what the changeling was after,” Melody said, in a sing song voice.

“What?” she said, instantly forgetting her anger towards the former ambassador, as her curiosity was piqued. “Well then.”

“Well what?” Melody asked.

“The changeling,” she said, feeling her temper starting to rise.

“What about him?” Melody replied.

Burying her face in her hands, she slowly shook her head, unable to believe they were actually doing this. “The changeling. What were they after in the treasury?” Harmony demanded, having nearly expended all her meager patience on her sister’s antics.

“Oh yes, the changeling,” she said, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “He was after six small gemstones.”

"Melody, are you sure?” Harmony asked, unable to understand why anyone would want them.

She was quite familiar with the stones Melody had mentioned. According to the Slave King, they were his crystallized tears. Proof that Celestia had somehow managed to make him cry thrice. Beyond the extraordinary means of their creation, she was unsure of any power they held. As far as she knew they were unremarkable in every way imaginable. Elsewhere in the treasury, there were many gems which shone far brighter and possessed greater beauty. If not for their significance as his tears, they would have been tossed away as dross long ago.

“As sure as I’ll ever be,” Melody said. “The changeling nearly went berserk when he lost them in the torrent.”

“Well, that makes things much simpler then. The loss of the stones, though regrettable, is of no real concern,” Harmony said, relieved that a full inventory might not be needed after all. “All that’s left then is to hunt down the changeling, and bring them in for questioning.”

“No wait!” Melody shouted, suddenly remembering what she’d been told in her dreams.

“Was there something else?” she asked, dreading the answer.

“The stones, they were something called the Elements of Harmony,” Melody said, relaying what she been told. “We have to find them as soon as possible, or else king daddy will suffer.”

Normally she’d correct her sister for implying the Slave King was their father, but hearing her outburst left her flummoxed. “What are you going on about?” Harmony demanded, confused by her sibling’s claims.

She was concerned, as court magister the treasury was her responsibility. She knew the name of every object of power that resided in the treasury, and had never heard of these Elements of Harmony before. As far as she knew, they were just ordinary stones. When she’d tested them for any magical properties, they hadn’t responded in the slightest. So how could they harm anyone, least of all the Slave King? And even more importantly, why did her sister possess knowledge she lacked?

Narrowing her eyes at Melody, she gave her a searching look. “How do you know any of this?” she said, upset that this was the first she was hearing about the power of the Elements of Harmony.

“Somefeather told me in a dream,” Melody explained.

“A dream?” she questioned, cocking her left eyebrow questioningly.

Though receiving knowledge through dreams was possible, and several members of the Pantheon had free reign over them, including their new mistress, Princess Luna. Such occurrences were rare, rather than commonplace. Very rarely would anyfeather ever be told anything directly. And more often than not, the knowledge they imparted were given through allegories and similes.

“Melody,” she chided, shaking her head. “You should know better than trusting dreams like that. For all we know it’s all something your mind made up.”

“No, I don’t think so,” she said, remembering the Library of Eternity, and the great blue serpent who resided there. “It was Jormungandr, he spoke to me in my dream, and told me about the stones.”

“You spoke to Jormungandr?” Harmony asked in disbelief, having trouble believing that the elusive deity had spoken to anyfeather recently, let alone her own sister. “How? I thought he was missing.”

Seeing her sister’s consternation, Melody chuckled. “Apparently it’s a matter between the gods,” she said, remembering what she’d been told by the Winding One.

“Melody, follow me,” Harmony grimly said, placing her ledger back in the satchel she carried about her waist. “We must advise the Slave King of this.”

Nodding in agreement, Melody followed after her sister towards the treasury to reunite with her waiting companions, before reporting what she’d learned to the Slave King.

*****

He stood proudly out on the balcony overlooking the city, his city. He heard crying coming from the room behind him. Turning around, he cast a scathing sneer at the source of the bothersome noise. He saw her crouched in the corner weeping, as she tried hiding herself from him in the shadows. She flinched when she saw he was staring malevolently at her with his blood red eyes.

Choking back a few sobs, she tried keeping silent, but it was too late, she’d already caught his attention. Seeing the fear reflected in her sapphire eyes, he leered wickedly at her. Though it had been a few hours since he’d last made use of her, seeing her despair had reawakened his appetite. Slowly walking towards her, he allowed the heavy thud of his arcanum clad hooves echoing through the room heighten her fear, as she trembled at his approach.

Looking down at her, his eyes followed the supple curves of her once crystalline yellow coat, now dulled with neglect and despair. Her dull pink mane and tail, once vibrant and immaculately styled to perfection, now hung in a listless tangle. Adorning her flank was her cutie mark, an ornate tiara resting upon a large topaz, and in the corner beside her were the smashed remnants of the arcanum coronet she once wore.

“Pathetic…” he remarked to nopony in particular, as he ran a hoof along her back.

Sniffing once, the miserable pony looked away, trying to hide her face from her tormentor. In response, he used his magic to grab her head, and turned her to face him. Her muzzle was inches from his, and he looked into her large blue eyes, relishing the terror they were reflecting. Licking his lips once, he gave her a hardened look, letting her know what he expected from her.

Too afraid to speak, she simply nodded in understanding. Seeing the cowed mare’s compliance, he released her from his magic’s hold, and waited for her to begin. Looking away from him in shame, she lowered her neck, and began servicing him as he’d demanded.

Looking into a nearby mirror, he saw their reflection, and wickedly smiled. There was something wonderfully primal about being served in this manner, especially given the mare’s former station. This mare, one Topaz III, until earlier this week, had once ruled over the Crystal Dominion as its regent. Once, she’d been one of the most powerful ponies in all Equestria, but now she was laid low serving her better, in the only manner he deemed her worthy of.

He grinned at her reflection, enjoying the show she was inadvertently giving him. Enjoying her ministrations, he felt flush with power. Looking at himself in the mirror, he saw his charcoal coat, and wild black mane, each a testament to his strength and power. Resting upon his head, was an arcanum crown as black as his heart. Jutting up at regular intervals, were spikes, giving the impression he possessed cruel horns. And because he didn’t trust the ponies he lorded over, beneath his red cloak, he wore his thick plated arcanum armor to protect him from any would be assassins.

With a triumphant roar, he finished, reveling in the debauched pleasure she’d provided him. Grateful to finally be free from her distasteful task, she returned to her corner, curled up into a ball, and wept as silently as she could. Using a scrap of cloth from the remnants of her once elegant dress, he wiped away the evidence of her task, and threw the rag at her hooves.

“Go clean yourself up, whore,” he mocked, drinking in her misery.

Turning away from her, he returned to his place on the balcony, and surveyed his kingdom. On the streets below, he saw the ponies he ruled over, silently going about their business. Though he’d been installed here for less than a week, his new administration was going along swimmingly.

Gone was the pointless frivolity of the citizenry. Thanks to his new policies, their energies were being put to better use. No longer did the plebs waste their time in the pubs and shops. Instead, they were better serving the domain and their king in labor camps. No longer did foals play in the streets, instead they were enrolled in his new schools. Being indoctrinated how best to serve the state, to serve him. No longer did most of the farmers farm, and craftsponies craft. Instead, the surplus labor was directed towards more beneficial industrial pursuits. Beyond the bare minimum of laborers needed to prevent starvation and keep the economy in check, the rest had been put to work in the mines, extracting crystals.

Though there had been many who had resisted his rule at first. They, like their former queen, had been brought to heel. It was amazing how quickly the bite of the whip bent the knee of even the most obstinate pony. And when the others had seen their neighbors bloodied for their troubles, any thoughts of rebellion in the remaining crystal ponies had been swept away.

A loud commotion outside the palace interrupted his thoughts. Approaching the balcony, he gazed down, looking for those who had so foolishly brought his ire upon themselves. On the streets below, he saw dozens of crystal ponies, carrying makeshift weapons, fighting with his guards and magical constructs. He glowered, as he saw the rabble beating back his guards as they assaulted the palace.

“Damn it all to Hades!” he snarled, furious that he was being forced to clean up after his incompetent servants.

Entering his wardrobe, he removed his magical horseshoes, and attached them to his hooves. Removing his cloak, he hung it up inside the wardrobe with care, before closing it behind him. Looking into the mirror, he inspected himself, making sure he was battle ready. Satisfied with his preparations, he moved to confront the foals who so foolishly thought to defy their lord and master, and the Slave King of course.

As he approached the door to exit his quarters, he looked back at the mare who was trying her hardest not to reveal her hope that a reprieve from his cruelty was coming. Knowing that he needed to nip any delusions that she’d ever be free from him, he cast a spell on the mirror, allowing her to watch him as he battled against the rebels.

“When I return the victor,” he malevolently said, licking his lips suggestively. “I expect you to reward me properly for entertaining you, my lady.”

Seeing her shudder in fear at his lecherous words, he released a dark chuckle. Oh it was good to be king.

As she watched him close the door behind him, all she could hear was his menacing laughter echoing after him. Turning towards the mirror, she held hope in her heart, as she dared dream that things might return again back to what they once were.

*****

As they walked away from the settlement, he felt a surge of something swelling within his breast. Never before had he felt this way about anything. Not even the thrill of battle seemed to compare to the feeling welling up deep inside him. His companion looked at him, and offered him a cursory glance.

“My son,” she affectionately said, opening her silvery wings slightly. Looking up at him, she deeply smiled. Truly, no parent could feel more proud then she did of her child. Standing tall all on his own, he was a chick no longer, but a strong adult. “You’ve brought honor to yourself and our people.”

“Mother,” he said, returning her gaze with his warm brown eyes. “Do you think that Melody will be all right?”

Thinking back to several days prior, and her son’s nearly disastrous encounter with the earth pony slaver, she nodded sagely. “Your father wouldn’t punish her for the crimes of another,” she said, placing her talon within his. “He might be many things, but unjust is not one of them.”

“I just hope I didn’t cause her any trouble,” he said, wondering if he’d ever see his half- sister again.

Though Melody had teased him relentlessly, there was something about her that always made him want to smile. He thought back to the Golden Eyrie, and his youth as a lone child. He’d never known any siblings before, and now that he’d had the chance to know his sisters, he heart ached to be reunited with them once more.

Seeing his sorrow etched into his brow, she reached down and embraced her son. “I’m sorry, Dawson,” she said, wishing there was some balm she could offer him to ease his aching heart.

Passing by a nearby pond, he stopped to look at his reflection. He saw his black and blue plumage. The dark feathers were nearly the same shade as the Slave King’s mane and beard, while the blue were nearly a match for his mother’s. Reaching down to pick up a smooth stone, he noticed the talons on his right hand. There were five, the same number of fingers that were found on both Melody’s and the Slave King’s hands.

He’d often wondered growing up, what sort of feather his father was. Was he fierce and strict, or gentle and loving? But the things he’d seen over the past month had opened his eyes, to the feather his father truly was. He was nothing less than a cruel tyrant, who possessed not an ounce of love or affection for anyfeather. Angrily throwing the rock into the pond, he watched it skip several times before sinking beneath the surface.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the nearly black coin baring the Slave King’s image. Running a talon along the coin’s surface, he felt the ridges and bumps engraved into the hard unyielding metal. Turning the coin over, he read the inscription on the back. The Strong Rule. The Weak Serve. The Earth Is Generous. He felt his anger burn within him, for nowhere on the coin did it say, I love you, son.

Holding the hateful coin in his talon, he pulled back his arm to throw it into the pond, when he felt his mother holding his arm back. “Dawson, I know you’re angry right now,” she said, looking toward the south with sadness in her eyes. “But one day you might regret throwing it away.”

Looking at the coin his sister had given him to guarantee their safe passage through the Domain of Earth, he sighed, before placing it back in his pocket. He smiled as he imagined what she might say if she could see him now. Don’t be such a pony, Dawson. It’s just a coin, silly. Besides, how else can we expect you to come and visit us from time to time?

Feeling the edge of the coin resting in his pocket, he remembered his sisters, Ignatius, the dragon-half, Erica, the feathered folk courier, and even the kobold armorer he’d neglected to learn the name of. He felt a connection to each of them, and was determined he’d remember them always as his kin.

“Come, Dawson, let’s go home,” he heard his mother say.

Walking away from the pond, he looked at the pony town where they’d left the slaves they’d freed. Looking towards the south, he saw the harsh badlands and wilderness beckoning to him, urging him to come home. Turning to face his mother, he walked to her side, and spread open his wings. Pumping his wings hard, he leapt into the air, and waited for her to join him as they continued their journey home.

Lady Zephyr, looked up at her son flying overhead, opened her own wings, and joined him in the pale blue skies above. Heading towards their home in the North, they left the town, pond, and all his sorrows behind.

Author's Note

Thank you gentlereader for reading chapter two of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, as always comments are appreciated.

Here we find the Slave King adjusting to his new life with his wife. It appears that even small things such as eating breakfast have become a battle of wills between himself and Luna. But even though he finds himself weakened, it appears that he still has some strength hidden inside himself. But it seems that slowly but surely she's winning her husband over, but the question remains for how long?

And it appears that the Slave King's double, seems to be faring little better. Wracked with guilt for sins he never committed, and holding a long held promise in his heart, will he allow himself to fall into the same pitfalls the Slave king once did, or will he rise above the uncertainty that seems to consume his mind. But what of Lady Suzaku? Though she nearly possesses what shes always desired, she seems to suffers from regret. Perhaps she can take solace in helping King keep his promise, and in so helping him, find absolution for herself. But now having taken a new name, and wearing a new face, courtesy of his hostess. Will Elrey finally find peace, and a place for himself in a world so hostile to his kind?

Harmony having returned from her audience with Jormungandr in the Library of Eternity, and tasked with retrieving the Elements of Harmony by the elusive Winding One, now needs to convince her father of the importance of her mission. One can only wonder what the Slave King, or even Luna might say when they discover what was taken. And Sombra seems to have taken to his new position like a fly to honey, too bad his new subjects seem to be chaffing against the yoke he so generously have given them. We wonder how the battle against the rebellion will fare for him, and whether Topaz will be forced to continue as she has. And finally Dawson seem to have accepted that the Slave King will never be his father, and yet he still seems to long for the harsh land his kin call home. We wonder if he'll ever return to the South?

Find out the answers to these questions and more, in the next exciting chapter of The Book of Water: The Heart of Winter, coming soon to computer near you!

Once again, gentlereader, thank you for reading and all your kind words and support. You make writing worthwhile. Until next time!